The Unforgettable Fire
by The Labris
Summary: It is her first year and Ginny becomes the first Weasley ever sorted in Slytherin. What is a Gryffindor at heart to do when trapped in the snake’s layer? Well, when in Rome, do what the Roman’s do. HG, DG
1. Year One, Forgotten

**THE UNFORGETTABLE FIRE**

Fire and Ice by Robert Frost

Some say the world will end in fire;

Some say in ice.

From what I've tasted of desire

I hold with those who favor fire.

But if it had to perish twice,

I think I know enough of hate

To know that for destruction ice

Is also great

And would suffice.

* * *

**CHAPTER ONE: ****Year One, Forgotten**

Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow

Creeps this pretty pace from day to day

To the last syllable of recorded time;

And all our yesterdays have lighted fools

The way our dusty death. Out, out, brief candle.

– Shakespeare (_Macbeth_ – Act 5, scene 5)

* * *

On reflection, the first year was the hardest. Being the first Weasley in...in ever...to be put in the Slytherin house is a bit daunting for an eleven year old with puffy-cloud dreams and heart-eyes for the Boy-Who-Lived. I think now that I was naïve, shy, gullible, and utterly hopeless my first year. No longer though. 

It all started when I was ten. Just ten years old. I was a skinny little girl with red hair (What Weasley didn't have red hair?), scabby knees, and a tendency to have a little scuff of dirt on my cute little nose. I had wanted to go to Hogwarts since my oldest brother Bill had gone. He was out of school by then, doing Merlin-knows-what in Egypt; sandy, filthy place if you ask me. Anyway, back to ten years old. I was just ten years old and going with my mother to Platform 9 ¾, dropping my brothers, George, Fred, and Ron, off on the Hogwarts Express...

* * *

"_Now what's the platform number?" Ginny's mother asked. _

"_Nine and three-quarters," Ginny piped, jumping slightly as she said it, a hint of glee in her warm brown eyes. "Mum, can't I go..."_

"_You're not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet. All right, Percy, you go first."_

_Ginny puffed out her chest indignantly, turning a bit red. She was never old enough. She was never big enough, or smart enough, or funny enough, or strong enough. She was never ENOUGH anything._

"_Fred, you next," her mother said._

"_I'm not Fred, I'm George," Fred said. Ginny could always tell the difference. "Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother? Can't you tell I'm George?"_

_Ginny giggled behind her hand._

"_Sorry, George, dear," her mother said absently._

"_Only joking, I am Fred," Fred said, laughing as he plowed into the barrier._

_Ginny laughed outright now, and her mother said, "Very funny," under her breath._

"_Excuse me," a voice said from behind her. _

"_Hello, dear," her mother said cheerfully. "First time at Hogwarts? Ron's new, too."_

_Ginny turned around and her breath caught in her throat. It was HIM! She scanned him over with her eyes quickly. Black hair, check. Bright green eyes, check. Kind of skinny, check. Scar (the most important), check. It WAS him!_

"_Yes, the thing is – the thing is, I don't know how to –"_

"_How to get on the platform," her mother concluded kindly. "Not to worry," her mother said after he nodded. "All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten..."_

_Ginny had stopped listening. It was her dream come true. She knew, through many hours of math, that he could be at Hogwarts with her brother Ron, then her when she got accepted. It was just...real...now. She was totally unprepared. Then he left, walking though the barrier before Ron. _

_After they left, her mother grabbed for Ginny's hand again, this time taking her though the barrier of Platform 9 ¾. Ginny had been here many times before, and all the noises, smells, and sights were familiar to her. The great, scarlet Hogwarts Express loomed above the crowds, and she craned her head to look up at it. The sound of screeching owls, mewling cats of all color, and the background of chattering people and witches and wizards announcing the time, the day, advertisements and et cetera filled her ears. And the smell of steam and too many people entered her nose; she was home._

_The glory was short-lived. "Fred? George? Are you there?" her mother said, well above the volume of the crowds._

"_Coming, Mum," Fred said. He and George walked over, looking over their shoulders as they left._

"_Ron," her mother said. "You've got something on your nose."_

"_Mum!" he said, wriggling away and jostling Ginny a bit. She was looking around for Harry. Then she saw him again. He was watching them from the train, trying to hide. Ginny licked her lips and turned so she could see him from the corner of her eye._

"_Hey, Mum, guess what?" Fred said, casting a little look at Ginny. "Guess who we saw on the train?"_

_Ginny saw Harry lean back, out of her view._

"_You know that black-haired boy who was near us in the station? Know who he is?"_

_Yes! Ginny wanted to scream._

"_Who?"_ _Ginny's mother asked in a humoring voice._

"_Harry Potter!" the twins said in unison._

_Ginny couldn't contain herself anymore. "Oh, Mum, can I go on the train and see him, Mum, oh please..."_

"_You've already seen him, Ginny, and the poor boy isn't something you goggle at in a zoo. Is he really, Fred? How do you know?"_

"_Asked him," Fred said with a smug smile. "Saw his scar. It is really there – like lightning."_

_Ginny could see Harry's form in the window once more. She looked up at him for a long while until her mother began saying good-bye._

"_We'll send you a Hogwarts toilet seat," George joked._

"_George," her mother said in a scandalized voice._

"_Only joking, Mum."_

_The train whistle blew, and the train began to move._

"_Bye, Fred; bye, George; bye, Ron," Ginny said, kissing each of her brothers on the cheek in turn._

_Then her mother led her out of King's Cross, and they got ice cream; a great ending for an exciting day.

* * *

_

It was the worst case of hero-worship you could imagine. I mean, it was sick. It was like a disease that ate at my thoughts. I must have thought about him twelve thousand times a day, every day, until I saw him that next summer.

Sure, I tried to occupy myself. I took up Quidditch, though the house was so lonely, no one to play with, and no one for miles to visit. I really could only practice with my mother, which wasn't too bad as she had been a Chaser in her seventh year at Hogwarts. She taught me the basics.

Then I started writing, keeping a diary. I'll read you one of my earliest excerpts. Ahem.

_Dear Diary,_

_Today, Mum and I went shopping. It was really exciting, we got to look at the Nimbus 2000; it's the best broom on the market. Mum is teaching me the piano and guitar; I'm not sure how she knows. She's teaching me to paint a bit too. Most of my paintings are dumb; I've painted people looking suspiciously like Harry Potter. I don't know what is wrong with me. Ginny Potter...Ginevra Molly Potter-Weasley...Ginevra Molly Potter...Mrs. Harry Potter...Ginevra Potter...Mrs. Ginevra Molly Potter..._

Path-e-tic. Really, I guess it wouldn't have been healthy for me to write anything else. What ten year old girl writes deep meaningful poetry anyway? Oh, I write poetry too. I've been told by some that it is quite good actually. Here, this is my first poem:

_His eyes are green as a fresh pickled toad,_

_His hair as dark as a blackboard._

_I wish he was mine, he's really divine,_

_The hero who conquered the Dark Lord._

Embarrassing, no? Really I did use good enter line rhyming and simile usage. But really, Gin, "a fresh pickled toad;" it is enough to give him nightmares. Talk about obsession...Merlin...

So with Quidditch, painting, writing, learning to sew, and helping my mother out around the house, I kept my mind more or less out of the clouds. Summer rolled around, and George, Fred, and Ron came back. All of them had stories about Hogwarts, and Ron treated me to the real story about what happened with the Sorcerer's Stone. I had even more itching powder in my pants (figuratively and literally, thanks to Fred and George) after that. I'm sure I talked about Harry nonstop the rest of summer. Of course my brothers made fun of me. Why wouldn't they? I was a wreck.

One night, I heard a peculiar sound, the sound of an engine revving. This was after Ron hadn't heard from Harry all summer and was convinced Harry's aunt and uncle had killed him or something. I put the pieces of the puzzle together too slowly to realize what they were doing.

That morning I knew he was going to be there, I just...panicked...

* * *

_Ginny woke up to the unmistakable high-pitched yell of her mother's voice. She was downstairs and shouting at the top of her lungs. Ah, she must have discovered Fred, George, and Ron's little drive, Ginny thought. _

_Ginny got out of bed slowly, savoring the fact that school was starting in less than two weeks. Less than two weeks until Hogwarts with HARRY POTTER! She clenched her heart and slowed her breathing, preparing to go downstairs. _

_Then went down the stairs and panicked. She darted back up as soon as she got down the stairs. Hiding behind the wall so no one could see or hear her, she squealed with her hand over her mouth. She knew he'd be there, why was she being so stupid?_

_The rest of the summer, she would knock things over whenever he came around. She would turn a glorious shade of red every time he spoke to her; thankfully, those times were few and far between. And she would scream into her pillow every night and scribble 'I love Harry Potter' and 'Ginny and Harry forever' in her diary, whose pages were filling quite quickly; she had very few left. _

_Finally the day of the trip to Diagon Alley came. I must have spent half my life wondering what I'd be doing this exact day, what I'd be thinking, WHAT I'D BE WEARING? It took me about three hours to finally choose an outfit, not like I had a whole lot of a choice..._

"_You have these," Harry mumbled after being thoroughly embarrassed by Gilderoy Lockhart. Ginny didn't care for him, but her mother loved him. "I'll buy my own –"_

"_Bet you loved that, didn't you, Potter?"_

_Ginny knew who that was. Draco Malfoy. She'd heard enough from her father and mother and brothers that he was bad news. He sneered at Harry, and something inside her snapped._

"_Famous Harry Potter," Malfoy continued. "Can't even go into a bookshop without making the front page."_

"_Leave him alone, he didn't want all that!" Ginny said, her Weasley fire thoroughly alight. She gave Malfoy her mightiest glare, satisfied when his smirk faltered ever so slightly. Damn Malfoy scum... she thought. _

_But he just smirked wider. "Potter, you've got yourself a girlfriend!"_

_Ginny turned the deepest shade of red the pigment of her skin could manage and shut up. That stung.

* * *

_

Basically after that charade, I didn't speak in front of Harry. Dad got in the fight with Lucius Malfoy after he slipped the Diary in with all my books. I didn't even notice, and I was right there, so how Harry did I'll never know.

We went home, and mother yelled some more; what else was new? She is a yeller, my mother. She'd never touch any of us, but yell, you bet. Her face gets all red, and all of her five feet and five inches seem to be seven feet. Then her voice, ouch, it can change octaves faster than you can say 'Quidditch.' It's scary, really it is.

Though not quite as scary as my first day at Hogwarts.

Ron and Harry weren't on the train! I saw them before I walked thought the barrier with Mum. I saw them with my own two, Merlin-be-damned, big, brown eyes! I learned later, of course, they'd taken Dad's Ford Anglia and flew it to Hogwarts.

So I rode with Hermione the whole time, which would have been fine if she talked about something other than school or books or _Hogwarts, A History_. But she didn't, and I was bored out of my mind until she suggested we go and find Ron and Harry. Fred and George said they'd not seen them since Platform 9 ¾, and then asked me if I thought my boyfriend was cheating on me.

I give fair warning to anyone trying to take advantage of me and/or upsetting me and/or trying to rape me, I have a right hook that will knock you off your feet. Charlie taught it to me, and Charlie was not only a champion Quidditch Captain, he was the best fighter in his year, or so he told it. At any rate, I gave fair warning, and George chose to ignore it.

Hermione ditched me after that, saying something about needing to talk to Neville Longbottom, and left me outside my brothers' and their friend Lee Jordan's compartment, very livid.

Why shouldn't I have the right to defend myself? I mean, I was a big girl, right? I didn't need anyone, certainly not brothers who made fun of me at the young and tender age of ten, eleven on the 22nd of September. I was going to _be_ something. Maybe I would be a champion Quidditch Chaser; maybe I would be a great painter, or writer!

I was sick of standing in the collective shadow of my brothers; I wouldn't stand for it any more. This may not have been the greatest attitude to enter the Great Hall in, because, for one thing, I had no fear, just the intense need to be something, to be noticed...

* * *

_Ginny was different, sure. Unlike her fellow classmen, she wasn't nervous or shivering scared. No, Ginny Weasley was determined. Her face set in an unmistakable, unwavering, mask of confidence. She was led into the hall by the prim and uptight Professor McGonagall. _

_Professor McGonagall took one look at her and said, "Ah, another Weasley I see." Then the Deputy Headmistress gave her a piercing look, and her expression changed when she saw Ginny's determined face. _

_Professor McGonagall frowned as a person would when they didn't like or trust what they saw, and began her little speech, "Welcome to Hogwarts. The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take you seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend time in your house common room._

"_The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history, and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn you house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most house points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will become a credit to whichever house becomes yours._

"_The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest that you smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting. _

"_I shall return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly," Professor McGonagall finished. She took one more look at Ginny before turning on a heel and leaving the small and frightened first years. _

_The mousy haired boy behind her who had fallen into the lake spoke up, "What house do you think you'll be in? Hi, I'm Colin, Colin Creevey."_

"_Ginny Weasley," Ginny said, putting forth her hand, still confident after the little speech of McGonagall's. "And I expect I'll be in Gryffindor. All six of my brothers, both my parents, and every relative I've ever met has been."_

"_Wow! I'm not from a wizarding family; my parents are both Muggle and everything. But did you know, Harry Potter goes here!" he said anxiously._

"_I know," Ginny said, her demeanor faltering just slightly. _

"_I'm going to take as many pictures as I can to show my brother and my –"_

"_We are ready for you," Professor McGonagall said, coming into view again. Ginny was thankful she had interrupted because she was sure she would have had to strangle that kid if he didn't shut up soon. "Form a line now, all orderly like."_

_They did, Ginny near the end, her last name being 'Weasley' and all. The line moved slowly, student's names being called loudly, then their house. The Creevey boy had been the first Gryffindor, and Ginny thought she might shoot herself if she was the only other Gryffindor with him._

_As the Sorting Hat neared her name, she began listening._

"_Parkinson, Allen…"_

"_Slytherin!"_

"_Quest, Jeremiah…"_

"_Ravenclaw!"_

"_Rosier, Evan…"_

"_Slytherin!"_

"_Spinnet, Laura…"_

"_Gryffindor!"_

"_Strattleford, Olive…"_

"_Hufflepuff!"_

"_Weasley, Ginevra…"_

_Ginny walked up to the three-legged chair and Professor McGonagall. Before it went over her eyes, she saw Fred and George giving her a thumb's up. _I'll show you, _she thought, almost as darkly as the blackness of the inside of the Sorting Hat._

"_Oh, will you now?" a small voice said in her ears. "Another Weasley I see."_

Yes, _she gulped mentally._

"_Interesting to be sure," the hat said. "Show who?"_

Everyone, _Ginny answered darkly._

"_Indeed," the hat said in an amused sounding voice. "Show them what?"_

I'm just as good as they are. Show them that even though I'm the youngest, I can still be something. I am not afraid.

"_Interesting, interesting._ _Well, with an attitude like that, I know just where you belong...with SLYTHERIN!"

* * *

_

I was convinced my life ended here. I had been put into Slytherin.

No one clapped.

Professor McGonagall took the hat off my head, looking at me like I was a leper, and told me to get off the chair and join my table.

My table? MY TABLE? What was she, some sort of insensitive block of ice? How could she ask me to join MY TABLE? I had been made a SLYTHERIN! I was supposed to be a Gryffindor! A Gryffindor! Mum was a Gryffindor, Dad was a Gryffindor, Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, Ron, and every other Weasley I'd ever met, known, or heard of had been a GRYFFINDOR! And she wanted me to join MY TABLE?

So I joined my table. The Slytherins scooted far away from me, far, far, far away from me, looking at me like McGonagall had, like I was diseased. They stopped staring at me long enough to clap for their newest member, Jonathan Wilkes, then started up again.

I still don't know how I got though that meal. Neither Fred nor George nor Percy came over to me, and Ron and Harry were nowhere in sight. I was alone...all alone. But I wasn't scared. In retrospect, that was should have sent my Weird-d-d-dness Detector Scales off the second I recognized it. I wasn't scared. What the hell was wrong with me? A poor, ten-(soon to be eleven)-year-old, Muggle-loving, redheaded, and defenseless _WEASLEY_ sitting at the Slytherin table, and I wasn't scared? No matter how I thought of it, I should have been scared. But I wasn't. More than anything, I was sad. You have no idea how it feels to be so lost, so utterly lost you can't even think straight, in an evil world of dark Slytherin intrigue and mind games. It is depressing to know your family shunned you because of it. And why shouldn't they? I was an abomination.

Not only that, I couldn't turn to a Slytherin for comfort, no more than I could turn to my family or any other Gryffindor for that matter. There were no girls in my year, that much I knew, only six boys. Six boys whom I would have to see every day, in every class for the next seven years.

This is where the whole 'Satan's Diary' problem, as I now refer to it, came into play. I was alone, no one to confide in; what the hell was I going to do, talk to a wall? I think not. I was going to write...and write and write and write.

But first something happened I will never forget...

* * *

_Ginny got up in a daze, the house prefect, a dark and intimidating sixth year named Amia Taves, led her and the rest of the house to their common room. It was in the dungeons, deep beneath the school._

This furthered my self-hatred later. Think about it. Snakes crawl on the ground. They are disgusting bottom dwellers. They lurk in the holes underneath the world, secluded from the happiness of the sun. I was underneath (literally and figuratively) the whole school and world, for that matter.

_In the belly of the dragon it seemed, or a snake for that matter. As they entered the common room, the stern, oily-haired, dark eyed, frowning form of Professor Snape met them, looking, well, nasty. He stared hard at her, but she didn't react. She wasn't afraid; she was too numb to be afraid. _

"_I am your Head of House, Severus Snape. Those of you who are new will soon learn I have something of a short fuse when it comes to other houses. I expect my house to be the best, and I expect them to win in everything they do._

"_With that, I leave you," he said._

_Short and sweet, Ginny thought. _

_As everyone was breaking up, he walked straight at her and said, "Ms. Weasley, I'd like to see you in my office, now."_

_She nodded and followed him not so calmly. From what she'd heard of Snape from her brothers, he was a pompous git who hated Gryffindors. Would he hate her? She was supposed to be a Gryffindor, right? The hat had made a huge mistake._

"_So, Ms. Weasley," he began, his hands templed in front of him and looking mighty intimidating._

_She stayed silent, not sure how she was supposed to answer._

"_You have been put in the Slytherin house, Ms. Weasley. I'm sure you're aware of the awkwardness of all this. Your family is historically Gryffindor; you are the first since the beginning of this school to be put in Slytherin. Are you scared?"_

_Ginny swallowed. "A bit," she lied, furious how easily it came off her tongue._

_He nodded. "Contrary to what you might have heard, I am available to," he made a nasty face, "to _talk _to." _

_She nodded, looking into his black orbs. Her obvious lack of fear seemed to upset him a bit, and he cleared his throat and said, "You may leave, Ms. Weasley."_

_Then she left. Kindness (or something like it) from Snape was something she wouldn't have expected in a thousand years. But then again, she never in a thousand years expected she would be sorted into Slytherin, so things were going just her way, it seemed._

_She crossed the common room; all eyes were on her, most prominently a pair of malicious gray ones, sparkling in the corner. Ginny tried to ignore this, but it was hard. She went to the room labeled "First Year Girls' Dormitories" and opened the door. Only one bed was present; no girls, as she had suspected. Her stomach got all queasy, and she ran to the bathroom behind the first door and puked everything she'd eaten for the past few days into the toilet. She got up and washed her mouth out._

_Then she went back to her bed and began unpacking. That was when she stumbled on the most extraordinary of things; a diary. It wasn't hers though. In fact, it didn't have any names on it. She opened it and looked down on it. It had the date; that was all._

_Walking with it and a quill to her desk, she sat down and thought over what to do. She didn't buy it, she knew. Maybe her mother had. Sometimes her mother did things like that, just get her things. Like the new robes that she'd been given, her mother up and gave them to her. _

_As she was about to put quill to parchment, her door opened, which was weird because she was the ONLY female Slytherin first year. _

_Just her luck, it was Draco Malfoy. _

_He entered her room, closing the door behind him and smirking. "So, a Weasley in Slytherin. I'm waiting."_

_She looked at him, her face completely devoid of every emotion; she was still too numb to feel._

"_Well," he said, raising his eyebrow and leaning against a bed frame. _

"_Get out," she commanded in a small, yet still forceful voice, boring into his hard gray eyes._

_His smirk faltered for a matter of seconds, then he frowned. "There is something odd about you; what did you say your name was?"_

"_I didn't."_

_He frowned deeper. "Shall I just call you Weasley then? Fine. There is something odd about you, Weasley, and I plan on figuring you out."_

_He turned to leave and then paused in the doorway. "It doesn't matter; you'll probably be dead by morning anyway."_

_Then he left. She slammed the diary shut, becoming more and more disgusted with herself with every breath she drew. Ginny threw herself on the bed and cried.

* * *

_

Yes, to my eternal pride, I cried. You thought I was going to say eternal shame, didn't you? I thought so. No, if anything, I'm proud of the way I handled that day.

The rest of the days that year; eh, not so much.

I remember very precious little about the first month of school. I remember taking long, scalding hot showers trying to wash the filth I felt off myself. I remember not being able to look anyone in the eye. I remember my mother's letter. Here's just a bit for you to try on for size.

…_and wrote us immediately. I don't know what to say other than your father and I are proud of you. We know you will honor the morals and values we have taught you, and do your house good. Slytherin needs a happy face, as far as I'm concerned, too much frowning in that area of Hogwarts if I can remember correctly. Just remember, we love you with all our hearts…_

Well, what else could they say? "We hate you, never come home and don't bother writing. By the way, does Hogwarts offer summer classes? If so, you should look into that." No, my parents wouldn't say that. They were too understanding, too noble to do something that drastic, though the letter felt a bit chilly to me.

Another thing, I remember my brother Ron and I having a bit of a row at breakfast the next day.

"_GINNY!" _

_Her name was shrieked above the whole school's chattering that morning at breakfast._

"_GINEVRA MOLLY WEASLEY!"_ _Ron said, charging his sister, Harry and Hermione not able to do a thing._

"_What?" Ginny asked, as her brother approached._

"_WHAT! WHAT! You go and get yourself sorted into SLYTHERIN, and all you can say is WHAT?" he yelled at the top of his lungs._

"_What do you want me to say?" Ginny said, her voice dead._

"_I don't know! Apologize? Make a big deal out of it? Ask to be RE-SORTED MAYBE? Anything will do!" he said furiously. _

_Her jaw trembled, but Hermione came to her rescue. "Ron," she said in a sensible voice, "You know you can't be re-sorted, I read it in _Hogwarts, A History_. Now really, Slytherin has had some fine witches and wizards..."_

"_LIKE?"_

"_Well I can't think of any..." she began but fizzled off into a mumble._

"_Ginny?" Harry said, looking straight at her. His bright green eyes brought some emotion to her face. "Are you going to be all right?"_

"_Yes," she said, blushing a bit._

"_Well, isn't this cute?" a dull voice drawled from behind them._

_Ginny didn't need to turn around; Harry's eyes had gone wild with hate. _

"_Malfoy," Harry all but growled._

"_I see you were talking with the newest Slytherin. How quaint. Going to ask Dumbledore if you can get her re-sorted?"_

"_Honestly!" Hermione sighed. "Has no one read _Hogwarts, A History_? You can't BE re-sorted!"_

_Draco_ _ignored her and looped Ginny's arm with his. "Come, let's go join our house, Weasley."_

_He led Ginny away, practically quaking with laughter. _

_Ginny wanted to cry again.

* * *

_

I also remember being very lonely. So lonely I resorted to a diary. This was the diary that would change me forever.

The thing that gets me every time is, for the longest time, he wouldn't write back. I would write, then ink would disappear, and I would keep on writing. I really did pour my soul into that diary. I told it everything, and it seemed to listen. Paper does that really well, you know. But had I wanted something to listen, I could have talked to a wall. No, I wanted something that would answer.

At first, I thought I had willed the book to answer me, like I had used magic to make it write back. Tom squelched that idea pretty fast.

It became a pattern. Every night, I would be writing in my diary, and Draco Malfoy would come in. He would throw a few choice words at my pride, then leave. Always, though, he would say, "It doesn't matter; you'll probably be dead by morning anyway."

Then he would leave. And he never called me Ginny or Ginevra or anything but Weasley. It was always Weasley.

I would go back to pouring my essence into an evil diary from hell until I almost fell asleep. I would drag myself into bed and hold my only friend to my chest, my diary.

Sick, isn't it? I know. But it didn't _SEEM _sick. It _SEEMED_ natural. I guess I played right into Tom's game in that perspective. He was a good friend. He would listen, be caring, be sensitive. He would offer advice, he would offer sympathy. He was courteous, he was nice. He was like one of those guys you couldn't help but like.

And my grades went up. You'd think, "Eh, you say your grades went up? How duh ya figure?"

It was like I wanted to impress him, Tom that is. The tiniest, "Good job, Ginny," is what I lived for. Once again, sick, eh? Well, you try being the Weasley-that-was-sorted-into-Slytherin-and-is-the-first-ever-to-do-so-and-has-no-friends-and-is-in-a-deep-well-of-depression-and-wants-to-kill-herself and then we'll see how picky _YOU _are about _YOUR _friends. I _LIVED_ for those words, and I worked damned hard to hear them. Someone wanted me, damn it. It didn't matter that I was a Gryffindor at heart. I still thought of myself that way, back then.

Anyway, I guess it was sometime after Christmas when I began wizening up. All I thought about was the diary, when I'd get to write in it next, what Tom would say, what praise I could get from him. I was his lap dog, his lonely, sick, lap dog, and I loved it.

As I was saying, around Christmas, I dumped the Satan's Diary in Moaning Myrtle's toilet, hoping to be rid of it forever.

I was lonelier than I'd ever been. Now, think; I'm the youngest of a family of seven. I've always had people around, annoying or not, they have always been there. And then to go from that many to having no one. If that doesn't kill you from the inside out, I'm not sure what is supposed to. So I began writing poetry, the first few thousand weren't any good, but like anything, you have to practice.

And like before, every night, Draco would come in.

"It doesn't matter; you'll probably be dead by morning anyway."

I would occasionally say something, though I felt more dead than alive, and I felt more sad than dead; I'll let you imagine how sad that really is.

Then I saw him with it. Harry Potter with Tom's Diary. He couldn't have that book, I knew. Nothing short of getting that book could drive me to do what I did next…

* * *

"_Hey, Colin," she said in a cheerful voice to the mousy-haired Creevey boy._

"_Oh, hi, Ginny," he said in a bright voice._

_At least he is too stupid to understand the differences between Gryffindor and Slytherin, she thought to herself._

"_I was wondering," she said. "Do you have any of those pictures of Harry Potter on you?"_

"_Yeah!" he said, automatically riffling though his bag. Madam Pince glared at Ginny but she ignored her. "Here," Colin said, giving her a stack of photos._

Damn, _she thought._ Think fast, Gin.

"_Um, Colin," she said, smiling shyly, "These are all really great, but what about the non-moving ones? I like those better."_

_He frowned. "Why would you WANT to see those? They are boring!"_

"_I like Muggle photographs," she said, batting her eyelashes._

_Colin's eyes grew huge, and he swallowed hard. "Oh?"_

I'm going to die!

_She bit her bottom lip and said, "Can we see some now?"_

_He nodded and shoved his belongings in his book bag hastily. _Too easy, _she thought._

_He led her right to the Gryffindor portrait, a fat lady in a red dress. He gave the portrait a password, and they entered. _

_She liked the Gryffindor common room far better than her own. Thankfully, it was a Hogsmeade weekend, so lots of kids were gone. The rest didn't give her a second glance. She was following him, looking around at the same time, until he stopped abruptly and turned around. She almost ran into him, and Colin blushed._

"_You're not supposed to go up here, Ginny. I'll get the photos; it might be a while," he said in a strangled voice._

"_Okay, Colin," she said sweetly._

_He disappeared, and she counted to ten before sprinting up the stairs and finding Harry's room. If it was anymore of a pigsty, she never would have found the diary. As it was, she had to throw everything every which way to find it. She grabbed it and sprinted back down the stairs, stuffing Tom's Diary into her book bag, just as Colin walked down the stairs._

"_I've got them, Ginny," he said happily._

_Ginny sighed. Now she was going to have to actually look at the pictures. At least she had Tom back.

* * *

_

I'll admit that after that I threw myself back into the book. I told Tom everything. I _BEGGED_ for forgiveness! And at long last, he gave it to me.

I've said it before and I'll say it again, I was sick, sick and depraved.

I loved Tom, and he said he loved me; I could still be a Gryffindor at heart, I still had the bit of emotion it required to be Gryffindor. Isn't that kind of sad? I still longed to be a Gryffindor. It was like a life's dream to be told, "Ms. Weasley, there's been a mistake, you have been sorted into the wrong house. Here, come up to the warm Gryffindor tower and warm your feet. Here you will be welcome; here is your home."

It is true; I was shunned in the Slytherin common room. I was shunned by Slytherins. Hell, even the Hufflepuffs shunned me, and they were supposed to be forgiving! I would have expected Ravenclaws would be smart enough to figure I couldn't help that I was put in Slytherin, but they looked the other way when I passed, too. But Gryffindors avoided me like the plague. I was like a curse, a constant reminder that even the most historically Gryffindor families could have a bad seed.

And just when my depression hit rock bottom, _HE_ took me. He came out of the fucking book! Who could have called that one?

I remember thinking he looked a bit like Harry, and when I told him, it amused him greatly. I didn't know why then, but he was obsessed with Harry. Always wanting to discuss him; he was almost worse than me, though my crush had been somewhat on the decline.

Anyway, he came out of the book, and I don't remember anything until...

* * *

_Ginny heard voices. Yes, they were definitely voices. Fuzzy and muffled, but still voices. It was like they were trying to break though the thick wall of cotton surrounding her head. She felt woozy, tired, only half conscious, and very, very, hungry. But she couldn't make herself move. She could almost feel her life force being dragged out of her, seeping though her skin in a most decidedly evil way._

_The voices grew louder and louder, but still they were muffled. She felt so tired. If she could just go to sleep, maybe, she wasn't afraid; Tom would take care of her._

_A scream cut through her conscious. _Tom? _she_ _asked. She could feel him all the time now, even if she wasn't writing in the diary. _Tom? Are you all right? Tom?

_There was no answer. He had always been there before..._

_She moaned and tried to sit. Opening her eyes, she was met by a pair of strikingly green ones. Him! All the barriers broke. Everything she'd carried inside herself since the beginning of term. All the pressure of being put in Slytherin, all the hatred that was cast at her, all the wishes for death in the night, gone, when he looked at her._

_She looked around at Harry, blood-soaked but smiling...sort of, and then at the diary in his hands. The dam broke, and the tears flowed evenly down her face._

"_Harry - oh, Harry – I tried to tell you at b-breakfast, but I c-couldn't say it in front of Percy – it was me, Harry – but I – I swear I d-didn't mean to – R-Riddle made me, he t-took me over – and – how did you kill that – that thing? W-where's Riddle? The last thing I r-remember is him coming out of the diary –"_

"_It's all right," said Harry. And it was. She was suddenly very scared._

_There! Let's freeze frame right there. She was suddenly very scared. No, I didn't do scared. I refused to be scared. I still had that desire to be seen, deep inside...deep, deep, deep inside. And scared people are never noticed. Scared people are cast aside like rag dolls and never looked at after their five minutes in the spotlight. No, I would have more than five minutes; I wouldn't be scared. _

_Okay, go. _

_Harry showed her the diary and the fang hole. "Riddle's finished," he said. "Look! Him and the basilisk. C'mon, Ginny, let's get out of here –"_

_Ginny then panicked. "I'm going to be expelled!" she wept, Harry helping her to her feet awkwardly. "I've looked forward to coming to Hogwarts ever since B-bill came and n-now I'll have to leave and – w-what'll Mum and Dad say?"_

_Instead of answering her, he urged her forward to a great beautiful bird, which they followed to an area that was caved in._

"_Ron!" Harry yelled, pulling Ginny along faster. "Ginny's okay! I've got her!"_

_Ginny heard Ron's muffled cheer, and his hand grabbed her and pulled her through a gap in the rocks._

"_Ginny! I'm so sorry! And you're alive! I don't believe it! What happened? How – what – where did that bird come from?" Ron said, relief written all over his face._

_Ginny burst into a new fit of sobbing and was only vaguely aware of the rest of the journey to her mother's arms. It seemed like forever since those loving arms had held her; it felt good to be loved again. And then her father followed in suit and hugged her. She was home again. Slytherin forgotten, she was a Gryffindor tonight, and her family loved her._

_She wasn't scared. She was warm and wanted. It was a different way of not being scared though, this was; she knew evil was out there, but right now, it couldn't get her. But it was this exact difference that scared her the most.

* * *

_

Then Harry launched into his explanation about the Chamber of Secrets. It took up the better part of twenty minutes. It became a bit dodgy when Professor McGonagall asked how we escaped, but I was saved by Dumbledore telling everyone that Tom Riddle had enchanted me. This seemed to get to my parents even more. I had to tell them that I had written in that diary all year, that I thought it was from them.

Dumbledore sent me to the infirmary, and soon everything was right as rain. My parents left, and though I didn't take exams, I finished first in my class, which I am ashamed to say is mostly because of Tom Riddle.

You wonder why I call him Tom Riddle, I think. Well, Harry and Dumbledore call him Voldemort, thinking that is the way they will escape fear. No, Tom would have loved it for people to fear his name, but he would have loved it even more if people said it out loud. He would think it a challenge to break this person. I say Tom Riddle because this would enrage him beyond all reason of a doubt. His filthy Muggle name; yes, that would get under his skin. If anyone has earned the right to call him by this name, it is me. I will forever call him Tom, and he will call me Ginny.


	2. Year Two, Broken

**CHAPTER TWO: Year Two, Broken**

"Solitary trees, if they grow at all, grow strong."  
–Sir Winston Churchill (1874 – 1965)

* * *

The summer leading up to my second year was...Merlin, there isn't one word for it. Lonely, tiring, long, boring, cold, hopeless...take your pick. I had begun to come to grips with who I had become. Not who, what, I had become. It sounds bad, but really it was. It was as if there was a snake and a lion in my heart, each scrambling to take as much as they could. I wavered constantly between Gryffindor and Slytherin, but in the end, loneliness and the cage won, and Salazar Slytherin claimed my mind and heart as his domain. 

Regrets? Many. I was eleven, almost twelve, and I had already decided what sort of person I was going to be. I had already decided the path of the snake, the bottom feeder. Amazingly enough I decided this in the period of two weeks I spent in my childhood tree house at the end of second term. I got up from the small expanse of wood high in the trees only to eat and go to the bathroom. My parents were worried, of course; Mum tried to make me drink some anti-depression shit. Sure I was depressed, but I was used to it by now. She was feeling guilty, I know. She'd given me a bit of a cold shoulder all year.

I got out one evening before dinner and walked in the kitchen, said, "Hello, Dad; hello, Mum; what is for dinner?" I sat down at the table. Everyone looked at me oddly, even Percy, the most...How to describe him? Oblivious? Yes, oblivious of the group.

Anyway, they looked at me for a moment, thinking it a bit off that I walked in as though I had just gone for a nice walk and not a two week vacation in depression-ville, and then Mum set the food on the table, and we all ate.

Odd? Yes. Slytherin? Yes. Did I care any more? No.

During this summer, I locked myself into my room and wrote and painted and played music. From what I've learned in Muggle Studies, I was quite the hippy. All of my thoughts were dark with little glimmers of hope, and all my poetry and paintings reflected this. I've always been of the opinion that the arts could be translated. As if a painting could express the same emotion as a poem; the final product is just different.

My parents and brothers were worried, of course. I mean, their baby Ginners was locked up in her room for hours at a time, her lights dimmed and music and haunting messages coming from within. I imagine I scared them quite a bit that summer.

I was developing myself, I like to think. I was also developing my wardrobe. What? My mother had taught me to sew!

The one fecking good thing that came out of Tom's diary was I was damned smart because of him. I learned I'm something of an idiot savant in Transfiguration and Arithmancy. Yes, I learned a bit of Arithmancy in my first year. What can I say? I'd do anything for HIM. But when you don't sleep, you have a lot of time to do other things.

Near the end of the summer, we all went to Egypt off my father's winnings. Mother was very excited, you know, about getting to see Bill and everything. We hadn't seen him in so long, we were beginning to worry he'd locked himself up in a vault in Gringotts or something.

I suppose you'd expect me to say Egypt was wonderful, all the new sights and sounds and _can someone give me a break_! Egypt is a hot, filthy, sandy, gritty, communist country with limited women's rights and burkas galore! I despise Egypt. The only good thing was the pyramids. They were awesome.

There is something about them. They are old, full of memory. I think that is it. Old magic, long forgotten in the halls of the kings. I never told anyone this, but on one tour of the royal tombs of Akhetaten, I went on a slight detour...

* * *

"_And this is where we found most of Nefertiti's jewelry. We even found her wand. We haven't been able to get it out of the vaults yet though," Ginny's oldest brother Bill said, during the tour of the royal tombs of Akhetaten. He had been given leave to take them on a tour of the latest excavation site in Gringotts. _

"_Nefertiti, we think, was not of noble blood, so she wasn't a purebred wizard; actually, we think she may have been Muggle-born. But at any rate, she became quite prominent in Egyptian society, and one of the more powerful witches. It was even said she could converse with the gods, especially Aten. She rose to be almost equal with the pharaohs of old. _

"_The most interesting thing about her, I think, is that her tomb was never found. Some wizards speculate she may not have died at all. That she had been so ahead of her time she fashioned a Sorcerer's Stone for herself and she lives still today. Codswallop if you ask me, but anything can happen."_

_Ginny listened with interest as Bill talked; he sure did know a lot about the ancient wizards and witches of Egypt. There was something about them, some power that was tangible even today in these hallowed grounds._

"Ginevra_..."_

"Ginevra_..."_

"GINEVRA MOLLY WEASLEY_!" her mother cried, standing right in front of her. _

_Ginny blinked her eyes rapidly. Someone had been calling her. Not her mother though. Something powerful, something old, something...else._

_Ginny looked at her mother and said, "Coming."_

_Her mother gave her an odd look and then began walking. Ginny walked towards the group..._

"Ginevra_..."_

Oh, no, I'm not ignoring it this time, _she thought, falling off from behind the group. She stopped where she heard the voice and closed her eyes._

"Ginevra_..."_

_And then she began walking. It wasn't even it as if she was walking; it was as though someone else was walking in her body. She could smell the old air becoming cleaner as her feet led her into a large, open room._

_She opened her eyes and gasped. There was gold everywhere. Precious jewels and statues. Obsidian, jade, kunzite, gold, silver, bronze, lapis lazuli...everything imaginable. She looked about the hauntingly lit room for a few moments then moved about the area. It was all so beautiful. But she didn't touch; she knew she couldn't touch. Something inside her said, _NO!

"_It is beautiful, isn't it?" a finely tuned voice said from behind her._

_Ginny turned around and saw her. She was decked in gold, her skin a light bronze and her hair black as night. She barely wore any clothes, and her white linens exposed one of her breasts._

"_Yes," Ginny answered in awe._

_The woman looked in a mirror. "Not many girls find their ways down here anymore. It used to be they would all come; I think the time must be coming."_

"_Excuse me?" Ginny said, not understanding._

"_The time," the Egyptian woman said, "of the final battle. You know, good and bad, light and dark?"_

"_What does that have to do with me?"_

"_Good Aten, you haven't been contacted before?"_

_Ginny shook her head._

"_Well, I suppose I'll have to explain it then. It would probably be better if you'd met Chani; she is much more patient than I. Let me see, where to begin? I think the beginning should suffice"._

_The woman paused and looked in the mirror vainly. "Magic is old, very old indeed. Though in the time I was living, it was quite new and fantastic. People experimented and such, trying to manipulate it to their will. There were, of course, some who were better at it than others, like myself. And then, one day, the prophetess came. We called her Reonet, the Timeless One, for she had no sense of when she was seeing, she just saw. _

"_One day, she came up with a prophesy foretelling the rise of an evil one, one who would change the world. 'But with darkness,' she would say, 'always comes the light.' It was about Voldemort._

"_It was said he would taint someone pure and innocent, the Virgin Of Light she called this person. Or sometimes even the Virgin From Light; she tended to be a bit shady when talking about the future, didn't want to give too much away. At any rate, there would be a Dark One, a Virgin Of/From Light, and a Green Knight._

"_Morgana le Fay, one of my sisters, thought it was Gawain the Green Knight and tried to persuade him to come with her. As if she could ever be the one in that Prophesy...virgin, my ass._

"_Anyway, there are those three. She said something about a Final Battle, more awesome and terrible than ever before, then she died. But before, she infused a bit of truth into me and my sisters. Remember she could reach across time; I saw you getting a bit confused there._

"_Our job, my sisters' and mine, is to find the Virgin Of Light and train her. Someone else trained the Dark One, and someone will train the Green Knight."_

"_But...but who are your sisters, and what will they train me for?" Ginny asked._

"_Good Aten, you ask a lot of questions. My sisters, let's see. I have seven, one on each continent. Now I am obviously from Africa, you know, Nefertiti, Maiden of Beauty, not much of a Maiden though. _

"_Morgana le Fay is my younger sister from Europe, the Maiden of Dark._

"_Nysilia is from Antarctica, she is a Maiden of Ice, a, um, Child of Snow; I don't know how to explain it. She is a tough one. Maybe Maiden of Absence more accurate, absence of feelings. _

"_Then there is Shijin, a Maiden of the Arts, a poet, painter, writer, et cetera. _

"_From Australia and the Islands of the Pacific came my sister Hina, Maiden of Primal Lust, though she would just go right out and say it, she is the Sex Maiden; she is very blunt and practical. _

"_The Maiden of War, Coatlicue, is also one of my sisters; she is from South America, an Incan witch. Though really, she isn't a warrior like her name suggests, she was the bringer of war, the herald, um, mother even, from some perspectives._

"_Chani is perhaps my favorite sister; she is the youngest. She is the harbinger of knowledge, the keeper of the books and tallier of the dead and living. We call her the Maiden of Intellect; she is from the tribes of the desert Indians of North America._

"_As to what they'll train you for, well, that should be obvious: your part in the Final Battle."_

_Ginny was silent for a little while, then she said, "I think you may have the wrong person, sorry."_

_Nefertiti_ _looked away from her mirror, one delicate eyebrow raised. "Me, make a mistake? You must be kidding. Look at my face; does this look like the face of someone who makes mistakes? I am the oldest sister; I don't make mistakes." Then Nefertiti gave an imperious flip of her hair and turned back to her mirror. "They will come to you in dreams, or as shades, as I am right now."_

_Ginny's face was emotionless as she pondered. Before she could say a thing, Nefertiti stood up. "Ah, I almost forgot." She walked over to a golden table and rummaged through a jade box. "Ah, here it is," she said, holding up a ring. "This is my gift to you, Ginevra. A symbol that I have imparted my knowledge and training."_

_Then Nefertiti tossed her the ring and sat in front of her mirror again, smiling dreamily into her reflection. Ginny examined the ring. It was solid gold with a jade incrusted inscription. It was beautiful._

"_What does it say?" Ginny asked, all doubts vanquished. _

"_My, you are a fickle one. I give you my most beautiful and prized possession, and you say, 'What does it say?' like it has to have a meaning. Just like Shijin, you are. 'Oh, but is there a deeper meaning, Nefertiti?' I swear, every day. Deeper meaning, my ass. It is jewelry; the inscription says Virgin-Maiden of Beauty. Happy? Just don't lose it; I don't have another, okay?"_

_Ginny nodded, then turned to leave, but stopped in the doorway._

"_What now?" Nefertiti said in an exasperated voice._

"_I...I wanted to thank you," Ginny said in a small voice._

_Nefertiti's_ _mirror dropped, and she straightened in her seat. After a moment, she stood and walked over to Ginny. To Ginny, it seemed a tear was in her eye. "You are welcome, child." Then she kissed Ginny on the forehead._

_Ginny's world spun, the air became old again, and she was back behind her family, following them as though nothing had happened. _

An odd daydream to be sure, _Ginny thought. She put her hand in her pocket and felt a small object. Pulling it out of her pocket, she gasped. The ring, she thought, amazed. She stuffed it back in her pocket and ran after her family.

* * *

_

Odd, no? My sentiments exactly.

We left Egypt; my mind thus occupied and convinced I was losing my mind or something.

So as I was saying about advancement, I advanced myself (and my wardrobe became considerably bigger...I love transfiguration), and term rolled around again. We went to Diagon Alley, and Ron and Hermione met up with the "escaped" Harry Potter at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor and then later with the rest of my family in the bar of the Leaky Cauldron...

* * *

_Ginny walked in with her mother, Fred, George, and Percy following. Percy was still acting pompous after being named Head Boy ages ago, practically when his name went down on the list for Hogwarts._

_Ginny was far from ready to see Harry and blushed furiously, not looking him in the eye. It was still too hard to look at him after he had saved her the year before.

* * *

_

Merlin! That little incident set me back at least a month. I needed to get away, fast...

* * *

_Ginny walked meaningfully towards the door, her mother and father knowing she wouldn't be stopped. They had learned enough that summer; their daughter had changed._

_She felt Harry's eyes on the back of her head and heard him ask, "Is she okay?"_

"_We don't rightly know," Ron replied. "She locked herself up in her old tree house for two weeks. Then she came down, talking like nothing had happened. Then she locks herself in her room. She writes a lot, music and poetry; we think she paints as well."_

"_Does it have to do with...?" Hermione said, trailing off._

"_Again, we don't rightly know. I mean, she doesn't talk much. Mum thought she was depressed. But Ginny just shrugs her off. She's changed. I'm beginning to think she should have been in Slytherin all along. I mean, even Fred and George don't joke about it; that is how serious it is."_

_Ginny walked out of hearing range and down the streets. She had earned ten Galleons in a poetry contest she'd won over the summer and decided she was going to spend it. But on what?_

_She decided she'd save some of it and spend some on a nice diary, then some on painting supplies._

_She entered Flourish and Blotts for the second time that day and looked for the owner._

"_A nice diary, eh?"_

_She nodded._

_He searched around the store for a moment and then popped up and said, "This is the ultimate diary. It has never ending pages that are easily found, a Hide-Me Spell for pages you don't want read by pesky younger brothers or sisters, and it is ripping proof, water proof, fire proof, and magic proof. And it has a sister book, so if this one is stolen or anything else unforeseen happens, all of your precious thoughts are saved into the sister, and only you can read it. Only ten Galleons at a steal."_

_Ginny looked at it speculatively. It was really very nice, green bound with silver designs on the sides, the dates written in silver too. It was perfect. "Six."_

"_Ten."_

"_Seven."_

"_Nine."_

"_Seven."_

"_Eight."_

"_Deal," she concluded, flipping him the eight Galleons. Art supplies could wait. She would never have to buy a diary again._

_He gave her the two books, magically inscribing her name on them with his wand, so it knew her, and she could read it._

_She walked happily out of the bookstore, anxious to get writing; maybe she could even transfer all of her writings magically to this new diary then hide the old ones real well. _

"_Weasley," a cold drawl said. All the warmth and happiness she might have felt drained. She turned, and there stood the familiar, smirking form of Draco Malfoy._

_She didn't say anything, just walked past him._

_He caught up with her easily and jumped in front of her again. "Is that anyway to treat an old Slytherin pal, Weasley? I mean, we were so close in your first year, one hopes they can continue tucking you in every night."_

_She stopped dead. This was something she didn't want to be reminded of._

"_Malfoy," HE said. Ginny turned quickly, her two books clutched to her chest._

"_Harry, let me pound him," Ron said, cracking his knuckles._

_Ginny's jaw trembled; wasn't her life weird enough without her brother just up and deciding one day she needed protection?_

"_Weasel, Potter," Draco said coldly, still wearing a smirk. "Weasley and I were just getting re-acquainted. The end of last term was so long ago."_

"_If you –" Ron began._

_But Ginny had had enough, and she was too quick for him. "If he what, Ronald? Are you so ready to jump to my side and protect my honor? Where were you last year? I seem to recall you leaving me by myself quite a lot. Are you only going to come and 'save' me when it is convenient for YOU!? I know you're thinking, 'I'm just protecting her; she'll appreciate me saving her honor one day!' What HONOR, Ronald? I've lost that; it is gone beyond all hope of recollection. Let it die! I'm a Slytherin now."_

_She had said this so fast her face became red and her eyes stung with unshed tears. Everyone stood amazed, even people on the street, which unfortunately consisted of the Patil twins and Lavender Brown. _Good, _she thought,_ everyone will know now.

"_Well, well, well," Draco said, "I don't have anything to add. Come on, Weasley."_

_Draco_ _took her arm and led her away. Ginny cast a look backwards. She had crossed the road...and it was colder over here.

* * *

_

It really did happen like that. Innocence lost like that. Eleven and innocence lost. What a way to live! This was the way the Slytherins did it; I was living now...right?

Eh, not so much.

Actually, twenty feet and a left turn later...

* * *

"_Get the fuck away from me, Malfoy!"_

"_What is this?" he said with amusement. Everything was a game to him._

"_I saved your pride by not saying this in front of Ronald and Harry, BUT YOU ARE AN INSUFFERABLE GIT WHO DOESN'T KNOW WHEN TO TAKE A HINT. LET ME SPELL IT OUT FOR YOU! G-E-T-L-O-S-T!"

* * *

_

I like to think he was surprised by this outburst. He thought I had turned fully. Only in public, thank you very much. My heart was still at war. Funny thing about being born in a Gryffindor family, it never dies totally, the fire inside. It will lay dormant, then flare up in the least likely moment. I had been saving that flame for a summer, and it was hot.

So the first of September, I boarded the Hogwarts Express, went to a secluded car, and didn't say goodbye to my parents. In fact, I wrote; big surprise there. After an hour or so, the train stopped. Alone in my compartment, I stepped outside to see what was going on.

I found Fred and George within minutes; surprisingly enough, Malfoy was in there, without his cronies Crabbe and Goyle. None of them looked good, not good at all...

* * *

"_What is going on?" Ginny asked Fred and George, eyeing the very uncomfortable Malfoy in the corner._

"_Don't know," Fred said, completely devoid of laughter. He was supposed to poke fun and be annoying. But something was wrong._

"_G-Ginny, be-behind you," George stammered.

* * *

_

I turned around and saw the most disgusting thing I'd ever seen. It was tall and cloaked in stinking robes that were practically rotting off its body. And it smelled of death. I will NEVER forget that smell.

* * *

_Ginny gasped as the hulking thing stood before her. "What are you?"_

_It didn't answer, just moved away. _

_Like the aftershock of a bomb, it hit her. Grief, hate, pain, loneliness, revulsion...but most of all loneliness. She fell on her knees and shivered. _

"_What was that thing?" she asked.

* * *

_

It was a Dementor. I will never forget that stench. I've tried many times to get it right, the expression of the smell, the feel. I managed a bit of it once, though that happened in the summer after my fifth year, which you'll surely hear about.

That was the year the Dementors came to Hogwarts, looking for Black and all. I'm not sure what to think about that whole thing; I wasn't really involved anyway. Come to think of it, I kept pretty much to myself in my second year.

That, of course, didn't stop Malfoy.

"It doesn't matter; you'll probably be dead by morning anyway."

Every night. I can hear him say it in my head now. I can envision his smirk where he paused between "It doesn't matter" and "you'll probably..."

Make no mistake; I was by no means attracted to Draco Malfoy. In fact, I wasn't anything to him, or he to me. I hadn't forgotten emotion, far from it, I was reminded of it twenty-four seven.

Let me explain something, because I'm not sure you understand...I AM THE ONLY WEASLEY SINCE THE BEGINNING OF THE WHOLE FECKING SCHOOL TO BE PUT IN SLYHTHERIN!

I was a loner, an outsider, a lost puppy in the streets of the Slytherin common room. This goes for all my years at Hogwarts. All those feelings of loneliness and pain and doubt, they were too much. My family despised me; Gryffindors despised me; Slytherins looked down on me because of my family history, wondering what was really wrong with me.

Two words: Emotional Overload.

What else could drive a girl to pour her soul into a diary, lock herself in her room, and freeze over? It was the only way I could protect myself! Think about it, would you rather be inundated with emotion, flailing your arms and hoping to catch on something sturdy in your sea of doubt, or would you rather freeze over and not have to think about anything? Wouldn't you rather be so numb to everything that you aren't hurt? I would much rather freeze than drown, but that is just me.

But back to my second year. Once again, I don't have many thoughts about that year; I was learning how to freeze over, bite me.

There were a couple of things though, one of them being one night, the night after Gryffindor played Slytherin in the Quidditch finals...

* * *

_Ginny was sure he wouldn't come. She had seen the match; she knew what had happened. Slytherin had lost. The Cup went to Gryffindor for the first time since her brother Charlie had played. The very small Gryffindor in her heart was celebrating, and she would have felt warm if it weren't for the chill. She fingered Nefertiti's ring; that always gave her a bit of confidence._

_She was writing in her diary when the door flew open. Malfoy stood in the doorway, his usual smirk gone, replaced by his angry frown; he hated losing. But what surprised her most, was that he was here. He had just lost Slytherin the Cup, and he was still going to say it. He hadn't missed a day, even when he had spent the night in the infirmary for his "arm injury."_

_He was soaked from head to toe as he glared at her. She turned back to her desk, which she had learned to transfigure into a vanity. "Upset?" she asked._

_She heard him growl. "I bet you're happy, Weasley."_

"_Why would I be happy? My house just lost the Cup. Besides, when have you ever known me to be happy? I was put in Slytherin; I'm still in mourning, in shame."_

_He frowned and said, "It doesn't matter; you'll probably be dead by morning anyway."

* * *

_

Then he left. I'm really not sure why that sticks out in my mind. There was just something about the way he was. It was like we had a connection for a fraction of a moment. I didn't like it.

But I ignored it. Once again, I threw myself into my studies and my writing; nothing could stop me once I got started. I forgot about everything, sleeping and eating among them. It must have got pretty bad, because sometime near the end of term and after Ron and Hermione had gotten over their silly little spat, Ron, Harry, and Hermione had the audacity to confront me about it.

Ginny was sitting in the library, doing some extra Transfiguration homework next to a fellow Slytherin, Jonathan Wilkes. He was in her year but didn't seem to mind her too much, or at least he wasn't one of the ones who cast her dirty looks in the common room or said snide things about her family, their wealth, or anything else nasty they could say about her. No, he was neutral, which could have kind of been like having a friend, but it wasn't.

* * *

"_Ginny," a timid voice said from behind her. She didn't even have to look up; it was her brother._

"_Ronald," she answered, not turning around. She was still upset with him about what he had done on Diagon Alley._

"_Can I talk to you?" he said in a voice that betrayed he was having a hard time controlling his temper._

_Ginny sat with her eyes closed for a moment then stuffed her things in her book bag and stood from the table. Jonathan was looking at her oddly, but she didn't care._

_"You can," she said, hitching her bag over her shoulder, casting sidelong glances at Hermione and Harry, both of whom looked decidedly uneasy._

_Ron gritted his teeth and led her out of the library and into a deserted classroom, Harry and Hermione in tow._

_"What do you want, Ronald?" she asked in the level voice she knew would drive him over the edge. _

_"WHAT DO I –" he began, but Hermione laid a hand on his forearm. "What do I want?" he asked again. "Ginny, I'm your brother. I'm worried about you. Fred and George and Percy are all worried about you."_

_"Ginny," Hermione said in a pleading voice. "We've been watching you. You barely eat, you are the first one in the library and the last one out, and that is saying a lot because I'm in there as well, and you know how late I study. On top of that, you look emaciated and tired. We want to help you."_

_"We are your friends still," Harry said kindly.

* * *

_

Sure, they meant well. They always mean well. But does it ever come out 'well'?

Eh, not so much.

* * *

_Ginny was quiet a moment, then she said, "Hmm. I see. So, my 'friends' just left me alone my first year when I got sorted into Slytherin. My 'friends' left me out to dry when I was waiting for the comfort I would later find in Tom, which, by the way, is really, very sick. My 'FRIENDS' who only seem to care when it suits their need for nobility. I don't think so, sorry. If this is what friends do, I have a whole bloody world of friends. Friends, pfft! I don't have any friends; I don't _want _any friends." _

_"Ginny," Harry began in a hurt voice._

_Ginny interrupted him again. "You want me to eat, fine. You want me to sleep, fine. You want me to change from what I've become, what I've been made into by some mysterious and cruel turn of fate, I don't think so. Find another plaything, Harry Potter; I'll not be pushed around. Now if you'll all excuse me..."_

_She pushed past her brother and stalked out of the room. Before she left, she heard Hermione say, "That could have gone better."_

_"Like I said, she may actually belong in Slytherin," Ron said gloomily._

_"Don't say that," she heard Harry mumble._

_Ginny rounded the corner hard and would have run into Professor McGonagall if she had been less alert._

_"Oh, it is you, Ms. Weasley. I was looking for you; coming back from the library?"_

_Ginny nodded. "I was doing some Transfiguration extra credit."_

_"That is precisely what I wanted to speak with you about, Ms. Weasley. It has come to my attention that my classes aren't challenging you enough; it's child's play to you. I want to advance you to the next level. Next year, if you want, I will move you into the Advanced Transfiguration class for sixth and seventh years. I know this is a big step, but I really believe you need it. What do you think?" _

_Ginny blinked a few times. "I'll only be a third year, though."_

_"Yes, which is why I will totally understand if you don't wish to participate."_

_"I want to do it," Ginny said forcefully._

_Professor McGonagall looked at her sharply, just as she had when she first saw her. "I'll tell the Headmaster you've agreed then. I would also like to make a suggestion, Ms. Weasley, to take Arithmancy next term; I have a feeling you'll enjoy it."_

_"I've already signed up," Ginny informed her._

_"Good, good," the professor said primly. "And again, I hope you will be challenged in my class, Ms. Weasley."_

_"Thank you, Professor McGonagall," Ginny said, starting off to her the dungeons._

_"Oh, and Ms. Weasley," Professor McGonagall said, almost as if an afterthought. "Do eat something; you are skin and bone, child."

* * *

_

Needless to say, I began eating more. Four people in one day is quite enough.

So winter melted into spring, but the chilly wind that whipped around my heart stayed in place.

I also experimented with Nefertiti's ring a bit. It was an odd sensation, wearing the ring. It made me feel...I don't know how to explain it to you...beautiful, maybe? It gave me a confidence, something solid to move my life about on. Sort of like the Earth's axis. Something I could depend on and plan on. It was a good feeling. I didn't wear it often though; there was something that seemed to be missing, as though I should get another part of the puzzle before putting it together.

I learned this was true one night near the end of term...

* * *

_Ginny had just returned from the library. It was late, and she had been studying for her Charms exam the next day. She dropped a few lines in her diary, and Malfoy came in as usual. _

_"It doesn't matter; you'll probably be dead by morning anyway."_

_Didn't he know she was already dead?_

_She slipped under her covers and turned off the light, determined that all she needed was some sleep and a good breakfast and the Charms exam was as good as aced.

* * *

_

Okay, you know that state between sleep and awake? That time where you are barely conscious enough to hear and react, but you still know you are awake? When dreaming like this, it is kind of that feeling. It is like you are conscious of your body, but you don't really need it; it is all in your head.

* * *

_"Ginevra..."_

_"Ginevra..."_

_Ginny's world spun slowly until a mist enveloped her, and when it cleared, she was in a chilly, frost-covered field. She looked around her and recognized where she was. It was just like it was supposed to look in all the books._

_"Avalon?" she whispered._

_"Yes, Ginevra," a woman said. She had a slow, deliberate speech that demanded you pay attention. She was short, just taller than Ginny, and that wasn't saying much. She had long, black, tightly curled hair that hung below her waist. She wore a black dress, archaically cut with long, flowing sleeves and a high neckline that perfectly matched her hauntingly dark, black eyes. She had a crescent moon tattooed crudely on her forehead and a thinly spun, golden tiara and a single, solid, black ring, perhaps made of obsidian. "You are in Avalon. I know why you are here, but do you?" _

_"Are you Morgana le Fay?" Ginny asked, looking amazed on the beautifully dark woman._

_"I am she. I see you have Nefertiti's ring; you do know what you are doing here, I see."_

_Ginny nodded._

_"Good. Then you know I have something for you."_

_"Yes."_

_"Good," Morgana said with a slight smile. She took the black ring off her long, pale finger and held it out to Ginny. _

_Ginny took it and shivered; it stank of power, of dark power, of death. Ginny gagged and almost dropped the ring. On it, in silver writing, was, "Virgin-Maiden of Dark," Morgana informed her._

_With Morgana still standing over her, Ginny looked up and said, "Why do they call you the Maiden of Dark?"_

_The little smile on Morgana's face broadened. Then a pitch-black aura of light came off of her. She seemed to grow, and her eyes turned solid black, so that there was no white. When she reached somewhere around eight feet, she stopped, and spoke. "Ginevra, this is why I am called the Maiden of Dark. The dark forces of magic flow though my veins, and in yours. Use them wisely, as I have. Don't be misled, don't be misguided, they are to be used only in the most desperate of circumstances."_

_The mist began to rise again, and Morgana spoke for the final time, "Ginevra, I impart my training and knowledge to you..."_

_Ginny woke and sat up quickly, panting slightly. In her hand was the black, obsidian ring. Well, then, she thought, one more to add to my collection.

* * *

_

Morgana's ring made me feel much different from Nefertiti's. Morgana's radiated power and strength, and the darkness. I have my suspicions on how good Morgana le Fay was in her time; I had always pinned her as the dark type. This only confirmed it. I mean, the woman stank of death! It was like being next to a Dementor, only she sucked out your power, not your happiness. Odd to be sure. It gave me a lot of new material to work with though.

Though I hardly needed new things to talk about. The whole Black shenanigan didn't pass over well, not at all. Snape roared about the dungeons, snapping at anyone who looked at him too long. He was mighty upset about losing the Order of Merlin, and it showed. I got the feeling it might have been something personal, but what do I know? And Malfoy didn't get over the fact that Buckbeak had managed to escape and told anyone who would listen that Hagrid had set him free and smuggled him out.

But as I was saying, it was the end of term; summer was in three short days, and I was itching to get away. Away from all the people really. Away from the hype as well. There had been a lot of talk about Harry Potter and Sirius Black; even Draco was known to talk about it once in a while, when other news was old.

The End of Term Feast rolled around, and I was inclined to sit though Gryffindor winning the third house championship in a row. It wasn't like I cared, but I think the lion may have gained some space in my heart. I felt warmer inside, warmer than I'd felt in a long time, and I didn't like it. I put on Morgana's ring; that was enough to make me feel cold inside temporarily, though I noticed if I left it on too long, I felt just downright evil. Three minutes with it on and I was able to think clearly again; my mind wasn't confused with trifles like emotions.

I followed my house back to the dungeons, intent on packing that night so I could have a bit of a lie-in the next morning before I had to leave on the Express.

* * *

_"Hello, Malfoy," Ginny said, throwing the last bits of spare parchment in Bill's old trunk. _

_"A hello? Someone must be in a good mood," he said in his normal drawl._

_"Summer starts as soon as I get home; aren't you anxious to be away from school?"_

_Malfoy snorted, "Hardly."_

_Ginny felt it wouldn't be safe to continue along that line of questioning. She sat down on her bed, crossing her legs and looking over at the sulking Malfoy. "I never once have asked you, but whydo you come in here?"_

_He looked at her sharply, as if someone had pierced him with a white hot rod. Then his face calmed, "I told you, I'm going to figure you out."_

_"No."_

_"No? No what?" he said, trying to sound amused, but somehow, Ginny wasn't fooled._

_"'No' as in no, that isn't the reason," she replied, perfectly calm. She felt no fear._

_"So Weasley thinks she knows me now?" Malfoy said coldly._

_"I never said that," Ginny said indignantly. "I just said that isn't the reason. What do you fear, Malfoy?"_

_He looked at her for a long, hard moment. Then he said, "Fear? A Malfoy never fears."_

_"I think you fear your father. I think you fear other Slytherins. I think you fear Dumbledore. I think you even fear me, or why else would you care? Hold your friends close, but your enemies closer, Malfoy."_

_His jaw clinched; he wheeled around and made for the door handle. _

_"We weren't done, Malfoy. You still haven't said yet what the real reason is for you coming in here."_

_Ginny was now standing, walking towards Malfoy slowly and deliberately, like Morgana would do._

_"Nothing!" he spat._

_"Afraid to tell me what you fear? Afraid to admit weakness? Come, we are all 'friends' here, Malfoy; what makes your heart stop?" Ginny said forcefully. She didn't know what was driving her to do this, it was just coming out._

_Malfoy had backed himself up into the wall, eyes full of fear and hands pressed against the stone. Then he hung his head in defeat. "Yes," he said._

_Ginny let out a breath she had been holding. "I know," she said, taking the ring off inside her pocket; she didn't even remember putting it on._

_Malfoy didn't look her in the eyes for a long time. But soon, he straightened and looked at her calmly._

_"My name is Ginevra, but lots of people call me Ginny," she said evenly._

_He looked confused for a moment, then remembering he had asked her that her first day of school, nodded his head. He made his way to the door, but before he could leave, __Ginny called out, "Aren't you forgetting something?"_

_He looked back at her, his cold gray eyes a little warmer. "No, not tonight, Ginevra."_

_She nodded, and he left.

* * *

_

I wouldn't see him until the beginning of next term. I suppose you could say I was sad about it, but how can you be sad about losing a friend you never had? It is widely known that Malfoys don't make friends. Friends are dangerous when you hang around in those circles; cronies work much better. A stupid person can't betray you...they are too stupid.

At any rate, my second year ended much healthier than my first. That is if you could call a girl with no real feelings and a newfound obsession with darkness and power healthy. But I had my physical health. Mother met me at the platform, another year gone. She looked relived and scared to see me, I think. It is odd to have no family.


	3. Year Three, Part One, Frozen

**CHAPTER THREE: Year Three, Part One, Frozen**

Among topographical features,

There are those that are passable.

There are those that suspend.

There are those that confine.

There are those that are steep.

There are those that are distant.

- Sun-tzu, _Art of War

* * *

_

Is it a healthy thing for a twelve almost thirteen year old to want to scare her family? If so, is it healthy for her to paint pictures of her family warm and happy while she is frozen solid in a block of ice? I didn't think so.

My mother found my paintings. It was one of the ones I'd made near the middle of the summer that depicted me as the outsider. In most of the paintings I call my "Ice Era," I am seen as a cold woman of ice standing alone with happy people out in the distance. They are very abstract, as the perfection of human bodies and proportions still eluded me at age twelve, and I feel that they are some of my less beautiful and more terrifying works just because I was so young when I did them.

At any rate, my mother found them. I believe she was more than a bit disturbed; I mean, she wasn't used to having to deal with things like this. All her boys had been good and bright, shining rays of sunshine (which I had managed not to see for three weeks in a row at one point that summer) that would never do anything like this. Yes, I believe she was baffled. I don't know, maybe she blamed a bit of it on herself; her eyes always were bigger than her heart.

She decided right then and there that I would be going to the Quidditch World Cup whether I wanted to or not. Something about it being good for me to be around a bunch of people, socialize, something like that; I don't really know her reasoning.

But I bet you're wondering where the ice inspiration came from, right? I had another dream, this time with the Maiden of Ice...

* * *

_It was cold, very cold. Ginny wrapped her arms around her body and looked around. Everywhere was snow, cold, yet clear and clean under the blindingly blue, cloudless sky. It was magical in an indifferent, chilling way._

_"Ginevra," she said. This time, Ginny wasn't surprised._

_But she was in awe. The woman that stood before her was the picture of winter. She wore not clothes, but ice that seemed to have frozen on her body in the form and shape of a dress. She had a slightly blue tinge to her, like she had no flowing blood because she was so cold. She had the whitest hair that reached down to her knees, and her eyelashes were lidded with ice, or diamonds, Ginny couldn't tell. Ice seemed to have formed patterns of blue tattoos on her skin, and they were dotted with ice-diamonds. She didn't smile, but her cold blue eyes pierced like an icicle cutting snow as it fell._

_"Ginevra, you have come," the Maiden of Ice, Nysilia, said. Her voice was like the wind, though not like Morgana's, just clearer, sharper, crisper. "I have been waiting for you."_

_Ginny could only nod. She was so ghostly beautiful. It wasn't like the feminine beauty of Nefertiti, or the dark beauty of Morgana; it was like cold beauty, frozen and far away, unattainable as the stars themselves._

_"Here is my training, my gift, Ginevra; my time with you is short," Nysilia said while she smoothly extended her hand, a crystalline ring of ice in her hand. Engraved in the ice itself were letters all foreign to Ginny. "In the language of Ice, it says Virgin-Maiden of Ice," Nysilia informed._

_Ginny reached out for the ring, and as she did, for the briefest of moments, her hand touched Nysilia's, and all went numb. She felt nothing. No pain, no hurt, no loneliness, no nothing. It was like someone took her feelings and froze them solid, and they couldn't hurt her anymore. Involuntarily, Ginny shivered; she loved it. It was the greatest gift she had received yet._

_"Use this wisely, Ginevra," Nysilia said. "I think it will benefit you in your mission. Use it wisely..."_

_And her voice drifted off, echoing off the barren wastelands of snow, and reverberating in Ginny's room when she woke.

* * *

_

So now I had three rings, cool, huh? Though really, I didn't have much time to admire or explore them. HE was coming to the Burrow. Why did HE have to come? I had enough problems, and I didn't want his stupid, "I'll protect you, Ginny!" bullshit. Really, I was almost thirteen; I didn't need a bodyguard. If he said one thing about how I didn't eat enough or sleep enough, he got the right hook...end of story.

In the middle of July, HE came. Hermione showed up first though, making herself busy in the kitchen helping Mum. I didn't even do that anymore; I had better things to do. Besides, my mother didn't want me in there anyway. I think she was scared of me. She never looked me in the eyes or talked, really, or...yeah, that was about it; she didn't like being in the same room as me. Yup, Ginevra the Terrible, that is me::grumbles:: As if, "terrible," my ass. I WAS TWELVE! I needed support, and all I got was fear!

So anyway, Hermione came, and Harry came by Floo. I was in my room at the time, working on my latest in my Ice Era; I was getting quite good actually, still not up to par yet though. Bill and Charlie and the whole Weasley clan were there, just waiting to get some more of Mum's home cooking. I had barely seen Bill and Charlie, but both seemed a bit distant to me, though more loving than Mum.

I think the worst part, though, was dinner...

* * *

_"Pass the boiled potatoes, Hermione," Ron said, his mouth full of food._

_"Ron, please chew with your mouth closed," Ginny's mother corrected absently._

_"Sure thing," he said, taking a big drink of pumpkin juice._

_Ginny sat and poked at her ham, not really interested in anything, not Percy's cauldrons and definitely not the Quidditch World Cup. Sure she played Chaser all right; in fact, her brother Charlie took her out the previous day and said she could make Chaser on any Hogwarts team she wanted. He said she was fast and agile, though she could have a better arm. It was something to look into, but it didn't really interest her._

_"So, Ginny."_

_Someone had spoken to her. _Great_, she thought, _Harry.

_"So, Harry," she said dully, turning to look over Bill at him._

_"How are you?" he asked a bit awkwardly._

_"My blood is pumping superbly," she said coldly, fingering the ring Nysilia gave her. She found strength in that ring, and she felt nothing, no emotions._

_He chuckled a bit, not sure if she'd made a joke or not._

_"Don't mind her, 'arry," Ron said, mouth full of broiled potatoes. "She's been odd all summer; didn't leave her room for three whole weeks once."_

_Ron was now openly picking fights with her, criticizing her and the like. He didn't seem to care about her anymore; it was like he had too much to worry about (though she didn't know what that might be) and didn't want to bother with a sister._

_Hermione frowned disapprovingly at Ron then turned to her and said, "Are you looking forward to the Cup then? It should be very exciting."_

_"No," she said truthfully. Then sarcastically and loudly enough for her mother to hear, "But it should be a good learning experience for gaining social skills and a grand opportunity to watch the greatest Quidditch players of our generation."_

_Her mother's face flashed some unrecognizable emotions, and then, as if ignoring Ginny's comments, she said, "Would anyone like some ice cream?"_

_There was a round of 'yes's and 'here, here's, and her mother disappeared into the house, carrying a lot of strawberry ice cream, smiling happily. Ginny left; the goody-two-shoes of it all was killing her.

* * *

_

I went upstairs and painted myself dying. Hey, if it relieves stress...

I'd barely lain down on my bed when I heard my mother knocking on my door impatiently. I got up and yawned; it couldn't be after five; it was still dark out. I slipped on Nefertiti's ring for a moment, gaining some confidence for the day, and walked downstairs for breakfast. Bill, Percy, and Charlie weren't up yet; they were heading to the field later, around eleven. We, however, were catching the earliest Port to the pitch. Lucky us.

After Mum had sufficiently stripped Fred and George of anything they could sell at the game, we headed out, tempers a bit high, except for mine; I could care less. We met the Diggorys at the Port, and then the Portkey pulled us to our entry spot.

It was actually really cold outside; I remember that most of all. That and Dad insisting we do everything the Muggle way; really, I mean, we could just make fire with our wands. Everyone else was. Hermione had to show him how, but even then, it took a while to make anything.

Finally, we headed over to the stadium. We climbed and climbed, and you'll never guess what we did next...okay, maybe you will...and climbed. I hadn't realized we had gotten this good of seats...it almost made me excited to be there. Did you catch that? That was sarcasm right there.

* * *

_Ginny watched as Draco, Lucius, and who she assumed was Draco's mother walked in. He had told her at the end of the term last year he would be going to the Cup; she should have guessed he would be in the top box, rubbing elbows with the Need-To-Knows of the wizarding world._

_"Good lord, Arthur," Lucius said softly after Cornelius Fudge had introduced him. "What did you have to sell to get seats in the Top Box? Surely your house wouldn't have fetched this much?"_

_Ginny, who happened to be standing right next to her father, watched him turn red and lost control of her cool. "Mr. Malfoy," she said in a conversational voice that betrayed nothing but feigned pleasantness. He looked at her sharply, and she continued, "And just how many people have you bribed in the last week?"_

_He looked like he might have a snide remark, but Fudge turned back to them, oblivious of the war of wills, and said, "Lucius has just given a very generous contribution to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, Arthur. He is here as my guest."_

_The corner of Ginny's mouth turned up slightly, and she turned on a heel and took her seat near the end of the row. The rest of her family sat down, most of them towards the middle, though they were quite a large group, and they filled most of the first row, even more so because Bill, Percy, and Charlie had just walked in. _

_Ginny crossed her legs, pulling down her Muggle-style blue skirt and white blouse, not seeing the point in giving the whole stadium a view of her. Not like she had much to show. She still had a boyish, skinny body, though she was filling out a bit in the hips and chest. She just hoped she didn't turn out to have the same genetics of her mother; she wanted to be kind of tall, at least 5'7. That way, she could at least look down on some people._

_"Ginevra," Draco said smoothly, sitting next to her._

_"Draco," she said cordially. "Finished taunting Gryffindors already? I thought you'd be longer."_

_"For now._ _Since when have you considered yourself Slytherin?"_

_"Since I woke up," she answered vaguely. He didn't seem too concerned that she had just slandered his family name seconds before, probably because he knew it was true. But she couldn't afford the same mistake twice. _No emotion, Gin, _she reminded herself. For precaution, she slipped on the Maiden of Ice ring. Immediately, she felt numb. Yes, this was her favorite ring._

_"Well, this looks friendly," Lucius said coldly, now standing in front of her and Draco, sneering and looking the most Malfoy he had ever looked._

_"Father," Draco said, apparently ignoring his father's tone. "This is Ginevra Weasley, a third year Slytherin. I think you remember her, right?"_

_"Yes," Lucius said coolly. "We've met."_

_"Ginevra," Malfoy said. "This is my father, Lucius Malfoy."_

_Ginny stood and held out her hand. "Mr. Malfoy."_

_He looked at her for a moment, apparently sizing her up. Then he stuck out his hand. Ginny was surprised, to say the least; the Malfoys weren't particularly friendly to the Weasleys...come to think of it, the Malfoys weren't particularly friendly with anyone._

_"Ms. Weasley," Lucius said after pulling back his hand. "One would never think they'd see the day a Weasley was put in Slytherin."_

_"Every family has its bad seeds," she said simply._

_He only partially sneered. _Probably not sure if I insulted him or not, _Ginny thought._

_"Father," Draco said, breaking the silence, "Ginevra is one of the top students in her class; she even takes Advanced Transfiguration with the sixth and seventh years."_

_"Is that so?" Lucius said. "How good for you."_

_"I always thought so," Ginny replied, smiling slightly._

_"Ginny," someone said from behind her. Ginny turned and saw Ron, Hermione, and Harry looking at her worriedly._

_"What?" she said sharply._

_"Is he bothering you?" Ron said forcefully._

_"No, you are. Go back to your seats," Ginny said coldly, turning back around._

_Lucius_ _Malfoy looked like he had some sort of question waiting on his lips, but he never got to ask it because Ludo Bagman started up his commentary._

_"_Sonorus _Ladies and gentleman...welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!" Bagman announced. The audience clapped enthusiastically, and Ginny clapped politely. "And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce...the Bulgarian National Team Mascots!" As he said this, a huge scarlet wave applauded and cheered, making their approval known._

Veela_, Ginny thought with disgust. They pranced about, trying to catch the attention of everyone present, flapping their blonde, wavy hair. Ginny, to her credit, sat impassive. Though Draco looked like he was having a hard time sitting in his seat. Ron and Harry had long ago left theirs and were looking like they might throw themselves off the Top Box seats._

_"Be careful," Ginny whispered to Draco. "You don't want to look like them," she said, pointing at Ron and Harry. Draco smirked._

_"And now," Bagman continued, "kindly put your wands in the air...for the Irish National Team Mascots!" And immediately a golden green comet shot down to the stadium, circling them, showering them with golden stuff._

_"It is just too easy," Draco said pointedly as he watched Ginny shield herself from the hailing gold, "too easy."_

_Ginny glared at him but said nothing, _

_Draco: one. Ginny: one._

_The rest of the Cup, Ginny watched as attentively as she could. It just didn't interest her. Though it interested Draco quite a bit. He would point out plays and make her look through his Omnioculars every once and a while. She humored him but made a mental note to make fun of him for it later. Though he appeared to be having a good time; after all, he was a fourteen-year-old boy. Quidditch was his life._

_Finally, the whole horrid affair ended; Ireland's win, Bulgaria's finish. Supposedly it was a huge surprise thing, or upset, or something. Draco invited her to have dinner at his tent as he was also staying the night, but Ginny declined, saying she would never be allowed to. _

_If she wasn't mistaken, Draco was trying to make friends with her, which, of course, couldn't happen.

* * *

_

All right. Let's clarify a point here. I don't have friends. The whole friendship thing, no, not so much. However, if I were to have a friend, the closest thing probably would be Draco.

I have learned, the very hard way, that friends get hurt. Not only that, friends hurt you. That, above all things, is something I will never allow to happen to me. My family and friends have shunned and hurt me enough for me getting put in Slytherin, and it takes very little for a friend to hurt you. No, the friendship thing isn't something I do.

Regrets? Yes. But what can you do? Your first job is to protect yourself.

* * *

_Ginny had dinner with her very enthusiastic family, who seemed to be ignoring her, like usual. She managed to slip into her tent with Hermione to write in her diary in peace. She and Hermione had just turned off the lights when Bill came into their tent._

_"Ginny! Hermione! Wake up and get dressed. No time to explain, just do it," Bill said. Then he left._

_I yawned and so did Hermione. "What do you think is up, Ginny?"_

_"More celebrating I'd say," Ginny said drowsily. She walked out of the tent, pulling on a light coat over her night clothes. _

_Then she looked in the sky. "Unholy Mother of Merlin..." Ginny said in astonishment. It was that Muggle family, just floating on the flames._

_"We are going to help the Ministry!" her father shouted over the noise, rolling his sleeves. "You lot - get into the woods, and stick together. I'll come and fetch you when we've sorted this out!"_

_"C'mon," Fred said, leading them all into the wood. It didn't take long for Ginny, Harry, Ron, and Hermione to get split off. _

_After a few minutes of traipsing around in the dark, Ron gave a yell of pain, and Hermione, apparently fed up with not knowing what was going on, said, "Ron, where are you? Oh, this is stupid - Lumos!"_

_"Tripped over a tree root," he said angrily, getting to his feet._

_"Well, with feet that size, hard not to," a drawling voice said from behind them. It was Draco._

_Ginny and everyone turned. Draco was standing alone nearby, leaning against a tree, looking utterly relaxed. His arms folded, he seemed to have been watching the scene at the campsite through a gap in the trees._

_"Why don't you go fuck a stump, you filthy, blue-blooded faggot," Ron said sharply._

_"Language, Weasley," Malfoy said, his pale eyes glittering. "Hadn't you better be hurrying along now? Wouldn't want her spotted, would you?"_

_"What is that supposed to mean?" Hermione asked, looking a little spooked as a huge explosion was heard as Draco had said this._

_"Granger, they're after Muggles," Malfoy said impatiently. "D'you want to be showing off your knickers in midair? Because if you do, then hang around...they're moving this way, and it would give us all a laugh."_

_"Hermione's a witch," Ginny heard Harry snarl._

_"Have it your way, Potter," said Malfoy, grinning. "If you think they can't spot a Mudblood, stay where you are."_

_"You watch your mouth!" Ron yelled furiously at Malfoy, who only grinned wider._

_"Never mind, Ron," Hermione said calmly. Another huge explosion was heard, and Ginny would have jumped if she hadn't grabbed hold of the Ice ring a half second before. Something odd was happening with her. Her blood was pumping faster, hotter, and she began a slow sort of walk towards the Death Eaters. There was something she was supposed to be doing; she knew it. _

_"Ginny?" Ron asked, as he saw her walking way. She didn't answer or stop but kept her slow, dreamlike pace towards the commotion. She slipped on the other two rings; she knew somehow she was going to need them._

_"Ginny?" Harry said, running in front of her._

_"Move," she said, much in the way that Morgana spoke. Then she ran into Malfoy's arm; she hadn't even seen him walk in front of her to block her._

_"Come on, Ginevra," he said casually. "Let's free ourselves of the riffraff; don't want to be around when the Death Eaters show up."_

_He had broken the spell, or need, or whatever the hell it was, and she now was quite dazed._

_"Just let her go, Ron," Ginny heard Hermione say to the furious Ron._

_"But!_ _He's a Death Eater! He's bad news and -" but he was cut off by Hermione again._

_"She's made her decision, Ron; let her go."_

_Ginny heard their voices die as they walked further away. _

_"What the hell was that?!?" Draco shouted at her. "Do you have a death wish?"

* * *

_

Of course I didn't tell him. What could I say? "Oh, sorry, my blood was calling me." I can see his response, "Oh, your blood, well in that case...you know they have places for people like you in St. Mungo's? You should look into that."

Sure, that would be a fun conversation. In actuality, I said I thought I saw someone I knew, but it turned out it wasn't anyone. He seemed to buy it; though with Draco, you never can tell.

Needless to say, the rest of the holidays weren't really...restive. Mum worried constantly and didn't want me or any of her boys out of her sight. I, however, did manage to escape to my room quite often. I had become really, really, REALLY interested in the ring Nysilia had given me.

I'm trying to find the right words to describe it to you. Okay, this isn't going to sound good. Have you ever been high? Or doped up on so much medicine, your mind didn't work properly? I guess it is kind of like that. When I put on Nysilia's ring for a long period of time, things tend to go numb. It is like...it is like floating in cold water after you can't feel properly. Your mind sort of turns off, and you can't feel. You can't be happy, you can't be sad, you can't want. But most importantly, you can't hurt. It is what drew me to the ring. All the pain inside dulled so I couldn't feel it. Sure I couldn't feel anything else, but it was by far the preferred choice.

I would lie in my room for hours, lights off, shades down, ring on. It was like intense zoning. I wouldn't eat, I wouldn't sleep, and I wouldn't think. My mind wasn't in the past, present, or future; it almost wasn't, period. In this respect, it was like a drug...and in one other. It had nasty side effects. What happened was when I had the ring on, I couldn't feel, so all my emotions built and built. The only way to stop the hurting was to put the ring back on again; it was addictive and powerful, and I loved it.

I'll admit it; I loved that ring. It was an obsession...or would have been if I had enough emotion half the time to have that sort of feeling toward something. It turned me off, and I loved it. But I knew, somewhere inside of me, I was misusing it. I'm not sure how I knew this, I just felt it...at least when the ring was off. I tried weaning myself from it, slowly, but it just hurt, so I stopped.

Eventually, I learned there were two ways to wear the ring. One was on my pointer finger. When I wore the ring like this, I had no control over my body and mind; my whole being went numb. The other way was on my middle finger. If I wore it like this, I could see clearly. It was like looking through the cleanest, clearest blues of spring mornings. My mind was focused, but I was cold inside. I still couldn't feel my feelings, but it was in that state I knew they were there; I just chose to ignore them.

I knew I was going to have to be careful with this; my mother had already seen me in my state of unconsciousness with my ring on my pointer finger. Somehow, she never saw the ring. This intrigued me; I mean, how often do you see a beautiful, expensive ring on the hand of a Weasley? I'll answer that for you: never. I tried an experiment. One morning, I went downstairs wearing all three rings (and let me tell you, this in itself is an odd sensation) and sat at the breakfast table. Advertising them as much as I could without looking insane, I ate. NO ONE NOTICED! At this point, I'm thinking, "Okay, Gin. This is a bit weird. Perhaps you should pull a Hermione and go to the library when you get back to school."

Thankful the beginning of term was so far away, I went into my room and did what I call "zoning" for a couple of hours. Though of course the minute I did that, the beginning of term seemed to be creeping up on me already.

Soon I was at King's Cross, getting on the Hogwarts Express…

* * *

_Ginny walked onto the train, not bothering to say goodbye to her mother, and sat in an empty car. She was tired and soaked to the bone. She wanted to put on Nysilia's ring but knew she couldn't, not now at any rate. She heard her brother, Harry, and Hermione talking as they walked down the walkways, saying something like "stupid Malfoy" and generally causing a scene._

_"Ginevra," Draco said as he stepped into her apartment. It was odd; all the stories she'd heard from her brother, she'd pinned Draco as the kind of guy who hung around those hulking idiots Crabbe and Goyle. But not once, not one time, had she ever seen him in the close vicinity of them. _Probably can't handle the stupidity_, she thought._

_"Draco," she said impassively. "You got them riled up right away; what is your hurry?"_

_"Can't miss an opportunity to show my superiority, now can I?" he said._

_"I guess you can't," she said quietly. "So are you going to tell me about what is happening at Hogwarts, or do you want to lead me on a bit like you did with Ronald, Harry, and Hermione?"_

_"I suppose I could, but you aren't much fun. The last time I saw you get all riled up was at the end of last year." He smirked. "We are holding the Triwizard Tournament at Hogwarts this year."_

_Ginny looked at him, an eye raised and a doubtful look on her face. "That is what everyone is getting their knickers in a twist about? Honestly..."_

_Draco_ _snorted and said, "Most people would kill for the chance to compete; what is with you?"_

_"Let's just say I could care less...about just about anything."_

_He looked her over appraisingly. "Ginevra, you've changed."_

_"I'm not the same person I was born to be," she replied, looking out the window. "I was supposed to be a Gryffindor."_

_"How do you know?" Draco asked sharply._

_Ginny looked at him like he was daft. She pointed to her hair, her freckles, and then pulled out the sack lunch her mother had made for her; "Ginny Weasley" was written on it. "I really don't think you need me to put the pieces of the puzzle together for you."_

_Draco_ _seemed to let it go, and they spent the rest of the ride talking quietly about this and that. It was odd; she never imagined Draco was like this. She never imagined she'd be talking to Draco like this. She never imagined she'd think of him as Draco.

* * *

_

It was a novelty, having someone to talk to, to share opinions with, crazy how things like that sort of just fit together. Looking back, I wish he had been my friend. Something people don't realize about Slytherins: they are very protective of their belongings, this extends to people. Slytherins are fiercely loyal to those who they think deserve their loyalty; I mean, why else do you think Death Eaters stay with Tom? They are actually quite pleasant under their layers. Slytherins have layers, one protecting the one under it. Every layer you get closer to the core, you get closer to the real person. I don't really know if I have layers; I suppose I do, I am a Slytherin. I suppose if I did have layers, Draco would be on the third or fourth to the surface. He is the closest person to my heart, now at least.

So we entered the Great Hall and the news of the Triwizard Cup hit the public's hands. Everyone was so excited; you could almost taste the anxiety in the room. Stupid Triwizard stupid thing...get over here, or I'll drop you like third period French. Sorry, a bit of aggression there. I really had bad feelings about that Tournament in the first place, and after what happened...let's just say I learned to be aware of my feelings.

Classes started. In a way, it was a relief. I didn't have to use the Ice ring a whole ton because I was so wrapped up in my classes. I had chosen Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, and Astrology as my classes on top of Potions, Transfiguration, Charms, and History of Magic. Sorry, no Divination for me. You'd have to break my legs, tie me down in the chair, burn off my eyelids, and rip out my tongue to keep me in that class. Divining the future, my ass...

My two favorite classes were my two hardest, Arithmancy and Transfiguration. They were actually quite interesting. I have a feeling I'm sounding a bit like Hermione, so I'm going to stop right here. Sorry, I have problems, not with Hermione but with sounding like her. It is too creepy. Let's just say I enjoyed my classes to their full extent...except History of Magic, in which I slept. I actually think Professor Binns sleeps sometimes too, if that is possible for a ghost. Sometimes, when I woke up, no one was talking, not even him. He sort of jumped and then began in some goblin rebellion. He called me Ms. Silverstreak...I don't know why.

Advanced Transfiguration was hard to say the least. And you can sure as hell bet McGonagall didn't go easy on me because I was a third year in with a bunch of sixth and seventh years. In fact, she may have gone harder on me. But I'm not too sure; Gryffindor fair play laws sort of forbid that.

The weeks of my third year rolled by, and my thirteenth birthday came and went. I've never actually looked forward to birthdays, not much to do really. The way I see it, it is just the number of times you've been in the same spot in the earth's rotation around the sun. I don't see the reason to celebrate. I'm not really sure how Draco figured it all out, but he managed to say happy birthday to me on the 22nd of September, my birthday. Apparently it was important to him that I was born on a solstice. Well, technically I'm born on an equinox, the autumnal equinox to be proper. As I said, don't look too much into it.

Halloween rolled around, and the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students arrived in all their finery. Really, the Beauxbatons students were disgusting; I've never met a group of more whiney, self-centered, conceited, bitchy know-it-alls than those stupid French witches. I don't hold the Durmstrang students in any higher regard. The lot of them were like Slytherins, except dirtier, hairier, and smellier. I still didn't have any good feelings about the Triwizard Tournament. If you've ever read any of the Muggle comic books (don't ask, you'll find out later) _Spiderman_, you'll know the famous line, "My spider sense is tingling." Well, my spider sense was tingling that night.

Draco had been saying he hoped Carl Warrington would get the Hogwarts champion position. He said Warrington played Chaser with him the year before as a fifth year and had been pretty good. I hoped a great natural disaster would occur, and no one could do the Triwizard Tournament. It would be particularly nice if a black hole opened right above the Beauxbatons' carriages and sucked up all the prissy, I've-got-an-extremely-large-stick-up-my-arse students and their stupid horses. When it comes down to it, I didn't like Beauxbatons students, could you tell?

* * *

_The fire in the goblet had just turned red again. Sparks_ _were flying out of it. A long flame shot suddenly into the air, and borne upon it was another piece of parchment._

_Automatically, it seemed, Dumbledore reached out a long hand and seized the parchment. He held it out and stared at the name written upon it. There was a long pause, during which Dumbledore stared at the slip in his hands, and everyone in the room stared at Dumbledore. And then Dumbledore cleared his throat and read out - _

"Harry Potter."

_Ginny's heart sank. This wasn't good news at all. She looked at Harry; an extreme wave of sadness enveloped her, and she wished she had her Ice Ring to squelch her emotions. But she continued looking at him. He looked completely surprised and stunned. He glanced around and up at Dumbledore._

_"Harry Potter!" Dumbledore repeated. "Harry! Up here, if you please!"_

_Ginny watched as Hermione pushed him, and he stumbled slightly over his robes as he walked up to the head table. Then after what seemed to be the longest walk and the loudest silence, he walked though the door and out of sight. Immediately the hall burst into a dull roar, every house talking excitedly about the...the...whatever just happened. Ginny sat in silence for a long while, the voices around her muffled and dull. She watched the door instead. It was as if it was just her and that door, waiting to see if he was all right. It was unreal the way it all died around her. _

_But slowly, her world turned back to reality, and she heard Draco talking excitedly with one of the Durmstrang students he knew because apparently their fathers were friends. Slytherins don't have friends. They have subordinates. Either one had subordinates or one was a subordinate; that was the way it was and probably always would be._

_"He must have cheated somehow! He is much too young; how?" Draco ranted. Ginny was convinced he was obsessed. It wasn't that big of deal. But who was she kidding? She had had a feeling things weren't going to be good with the Triwizard Tournament. And here she sat in the Great Hall, watching as once again, Harry Potter was thrown into another life-threatening situation.

* * *

_

One word: Weird-d-d-d-d-d-d...d.

Actually there is a second: Scary.

We went over the "I don't do the whole scared thing," right? Good.

I was scared. Scared he would die. There was something wrong with this picture, something wrong with this situation, something wrong, period. Sitting there at the Slytherin table next to the stupid Durmstrangs (of whom the only one I could handle was Viktor and another kid you'll learn about later, though even they were weird), there was nothing I could do.

So like the rest of the school, we were excused to go to our common rooms and sleep; the Durmstrang students went to their boat, and the Beauxbatons students to their carriages. I was one of the last to leave the hall, a few Durmstrangs hanging behind and waiting for their teacher, Karkaroff.

I think I should go ahead and say it; by my third year, I had filled out a bit more, enough to be appealing to boys. I wasn't my ideal height yet, but my body was somewhere in the middle of its development. I am happy to say I had quite a good figure for a third year. What can I say? Weasley women mature fast. Unfortunately, the other six boys in my year had noticed. They themselves were just beginning to "grow into their bodies" and were, how you say, curious? More like horny and couldn't wait to slip mirrors under my skirts. Pervs. At any rate, I'd have to deck them soon because I was getting annoyed. I'm not saying I don't like boys, and Jonathan Wilkes, a fellow third year with me, was really quite attractive, but that didn't mean I wanted them looking up my skirt.

Anyway, I was waiting in the Great Hall...

* * *

_Ginny was packing up her books so she could head to the library. You couldn't pass McGonagall's Advanced Transfiguration without studying every night, and Ginny would pass. She would pass even if she had to fail History of Magic. She had just put every book she owned in her bag, and she heaved it over her shoulder when it broke._

_"Damn it!" she said quietly. She bent down to pick up her books and parchments when someone handed her a book._

_"Advanced Transfiguration," he said. He was fair-haired and tall with bright, blue eyes and a well-muscled build. He smiled at her and said, "Vat vould you be doing vith a book like this?"_

_"I take this class," Ginny said, standing up and looking him in the eye._

_"Vat year are you?"_

_"I'm a third year Slytherin," she answered._

_"They let you take Advanced Transfiguration in your third year in Hogvarts?" he said in an amazed voice._

_"Only some people," she answered, bending down to stuff her things in her bag again, getting annoyed with the tall, fair-haired boy._

_He bent down as well and helped her, smiling the whole time. After the last quill was in her bag, he smiled at her again, ran a hand though his hair and said, "I'm Alexsey, Alexsey Polinen."_

_"Ginevra," she said, sticking out her hand and looking up at him with serious, big, brown eyes._

_He took it, but instead of shaking, kissed it. "Nice to meet you, Ginevra. I hope to see you again."_

_Then he winked and turned back to his Durmstrang friends, speaking in what Ginny suspected was Russian. She frowned after him and then turned to go to the library.

* * *

_

Talk about weird. What was a (at least) sixth year doing hitting on me? Sure, I was developed for my age, but that doesn't mean anything; he was probably three or four years older than me.

But if you think that is weird, guess what happened next. No, just go ahead and guess. No, good try. But it is weirder than even that.

* * *

_Ginny rounded the corner to the library and almost ran into Draco._

_"What was that?" he asked; his face was unnaturally dark._

_"What was what?" she asked, tired of being stalled on her way to the library._

_"That! In the Great Hall! He is like four years too old for you!" he said furiously._

_"I think you are reading a bit much into that. My bag broke, and he introduced himself; that is all. In addition, what business is it of yours and why would you care?" Ginny snapped._

_Draco opened and closed his mouth once. "He is from Durmstrang, he can't be trusted."_

_Ginny stared blankly at him, all thoughts of the library gone. They began walking to the dungeons, not wanting to get caught out in the halls._

_"That is your reasoning? 'He's from Durmstrang, he can't be trusted.' Give me a break, Draco. We are in Slytherin; it's practically the same thing!"_

_"He isn't right for you," Draco said in a desperate voice._

_"Oh, please. Not like it is any of your business, one encounter like that is no reason for me to go off and have the guy's babies, Draco. Don't get your knickers in a twist."_

_"I don't wear knickers."_

_"I didn't want to know that."_

_"So you won't date him?" Draco said, now leaning in my doorway as he always did._

_"No," she spat. "I'm not going to 'date' anyone. Back off."_

_He looked at her sharply, then said, "Good night, Ginevra."_

_"Good night, Draco," Ginny said, sitting down at her vanity and opening her diary.

* * *

_

Did I tell you? Yeah, weird, I know.

But what was I supposed to say? I didn't like Alexsey; I never have and never will. Stupid Slytherin over-protectiveness.

Anyway, the first task came around, and the whole school was awed by Harry's daring and dangerous broom flying. He really does have a gift. It is art the way he rides his broom. I thought the Chinese Fireball was particularly beautiful, and now I sound like Charlie. I swear, if it weren't illegal, he'd go and marry a dragon, the biggest, meanest, most dangerous fire-breathing lizard he could find and then find a way to procreate. Either that or he'll marry Elizabeth MacFustry of the Herbrigean MacFustrys, you know the ones who manage the Herbrigean Black Dragons Reservation? He's been dating her for years.

I, like the rest of the school, was aware of the Yule Ball that winter. But I, unlike the rest of the school, could have cared less. And I, like some of my school mates, was asked by the least likely of people, to this dance/ball/thing. No, not Draco. Pansy asked him, and his father said he shouldn't refuse. He ranted about this for little over an hour one night. Oh, how I remember that particular rant; I had to put a Silencing Charm on the room, so no one could hear.

But I bet you're dying to know who is...

* * *

_Ginny sat at the library table, her feet propped on the table and books spread about her. She had long ago discarded her cloak and sweater top; Madam Pince liked it ungodly hot in the winter. Something about her being old, and it got kind of fuzzy after that. But it was sweltering, and Ginny almost wished for the cool dampness of the dungeons...almost. She flipped the page and loosened her school tie, wiping a bit of sweat off her head as she held her hair off her neck._

Good Merlin, it's like a sauna in here!_ she thought as she gave Madam Pince a death glare. Unfortunately Madam Pince couldn't see Ginny in her suffering; she was doing Merlin-knew-what with the new books that had been ordered. _Booby trapping them probably, the crazy old witch_, Ginny thought. _

_Just as she was about to do a Breeze Charm, the doors of the library opened and in walked a group of Durmstrang boys. Alexsey was with them, along with a few older Slytherin boys she recognized. Alexsey made eye contact with her, and Ginny held it for a bit, not feeling scared at all._

_He turned back to his friends, and Ginny turned back to her work. Finishing the last of her Arithmancy problems, she went on to Transfiguration. She brought out her notes and started looking for her book but couldn't find it._

_"Looking for something?" a voice behind her asked._

_"It seems an Advanced Transfiguration book has gone missing from my table, have you seen it?" she said, turning to Alexsey and looking up at him._

_"It is nice to see you again, Ginevra," he said with a smile._

_"I can hardly say the same as you have my Transfiguration book, Alexsey," she said, with a hint of a smile on her face. It was hard not to like him._

_"I still don't know vat you are doing in that class," he said, sitting across from her and sliding the book across the table._

_Ginny shrugged and said, "Well, appearances aren't always what they seem."_

_"Too true," he admitted, looking around a bit. Then he looked her in the eyes and said, "Vat is in you that people don't see, _ _Virginia__?" _

_She leaned in close to him, as though she was going to divulge a secret. He leaned closer to her, and Ginny said, "I was paid to keep track of the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students, so they didn't figure out any of Hogwarts' secrets while they were snooping about the library."_

_He looked at her for a moment and then fell back in his seat laughing. Ginny leaned back and watched him. He really was quite good looking, but that still didn't change that she would never, could never, like or love anyone like that._

_"That vas funny," he said after a bit. "You really had me going for a minute there, Ginevra."_

_She smiled sarcastically and said, "So what are you doing in the library, then, if not trying to find out its numerous secrets? I can tell you that a few of the books in the Restricted Section lead to different rooms of books and the like, but other than that, I'm useless."_

_He looked at her closely; Ginny could tell he was fighting to keep his gaze on her face, not her chest. "Vell, since I have completed my mission, I guess I could ask you my question."_

_Ginny raised an eyebrow at him but said nothing._

_"Vould you go to the Yule Ball vith me, Ginevra?" he asked seriously._

_Ginny looked at him with a blank expression. She must have been silent for too long, because his face fell, and he said, "I know I am a few years older than you and -"_

_"That isn't it."_

_"You like that other boy, that Malfoy, then," he said, looking a bit discouraged._

_"No," Ginny said firmly._

_"Then it is because I am from Durmstrang?" he asked._

_Ginny shook her head, though he wasn't all wrong with the fact that he was too old for her and he was from Durmstrang. _

_She looked at him for a long while, and before she could speak, he said, "I sure vish I could see vat you are thinking."_

_Ginny's face softened a bit, and she said, "I'm thinking you should meet me outside the Slytherin common rooms before the Yule Ball."_

_His face lit again. "So that is a yes?"_

_She nodded, and he smiled. "I'll see you then, Ginevra."_

_Then he left the library, his friends falling in line behind him. They spoke in Russian as they left. Ginny sighed and got back to work. She tried not to think about the dance...but what was she going to wear?_


	4. Year Three, Part Two, Burned

**CHAPTER FOUR: Year Three, Part Two, Burned**

"How much more grievous are the consequences of anger than the causes of it."

– Holy Roman Emperor Marcus Aurelius

* * *

So I owled my mother, telling her to send the white dress robes she had bought me, and put my Transfiguration skills to work. It took me the better part of a Sunday afternoon to get it looking how I wanted it. It really is amazing what you can do when you are a genius. The dress started as a white, linen, old, and slightly ugly dress, and ended up as a dark green, stiffish, silk, high necked, long sleeved dress with silver swirls at the bottom that were slightly sparkling. It was beautiful. And even though I own very little jewelry (not counting the rings), what I do own is very nice. On my tenth birthday, I was given a beautiful silver chain necklace by my late grandmother. All in all, my dress and jewelry would be fine. I did however opt for wearing Nefertiti's ring; I would need to feel as confident as I could. I left the other two safe and sound in my hiding spot in my dorm.

The matter of hair only required a Piling Charm, and it would be in a messy bun on the top of my head with delicate tendrils hanging down. I had to admit I was beautiful; green happens to compliment my skin and hair.

There was only one downfall to my dress...

* * *

_Ginny struggled with her dress. The damned thing was a bitch to get on. It fit her fine, sure, but she thought it would be cool to have buttons all the way up the back of it. They were very small buttons and very close together, the type that had the little loop they went into._

"_Urgh!" she said aloud. "Stupid dress!"_

"_Having some problems?" a cold drawl said from behind her. She turned sharply, saw it was Draco and relaxed._

"_Shut up, or I'll wipe that silly grin off your face. If you must know, yes, I can't reach these buttons," she said coolly._

_He only smirked wider and made a turning motion with his hand. Ginny rolled her eyes and turned around. "You know it is weird that a guy is doing this, right?" she said._

"_You love it." She could tell he was smirking._

"_I love not having dorm mates," she answered._

_He purposefully brushed a few of his knuckles on her bare skin, and she stiffened. "Where did you get this dress?" he asked her; it was almost a whisper in her ear. He had never made any sort of comment on the wealth status of her family to her face, but she couldn't blame him for being curious._

"_I made it," she answered simply._

"_Transfiguration?"_

"_A bit," she answered. He buttoned the last button, and she turned around to face him. She couldn't read the expression on his face._

"_Who are you going with? I've asked around; no one knows," he asked._

"_Alexsey."_

_He frowned. "You will dance with me. Five dances."_

"_Two."_

"_Four."_

"_Three."_

"_Deal," he said. He looked her over again and left quietly._

What the hell was that about? _Ginny wondered. She preformed the Piling Charm, bushed on some light green eye shadow and blush and then headed outside. She got the appraisal of those who weren't going as she left, many whispering behind their hands and pointing. Ginny ignored them and walked outside the common room._

_Immediately she was met by a grinning Alexsey; he was wearing a plain black robe and holding some silver petaled flower in a box. She watched as he had trouble keeping his gaze on her face again and tried to give him a warm smile; after all, he had bought her a flower, whatever it was._

"_You look beautiful," he complimented. Ginny smiled and let him put the silver flower on her hand. It was very beautiful, and very, very...she didn't know the right words, proper, regal, cold? All of them worked. As flowers went, it was on the other side of the spectrum from dandelions and daisies. "It is called the Santaplata by the English, but my people call it святой серебряный цветок."_

"_It's lovely," she said, looking up at him. He smiled and extended his arm. Ginny took it, and they started off to the ball._

_Most of the people had already entered the Great Hall by the time Ginny and Alexsey arrived. It was much different, Ginny decided, different in a way she liked. There was also a huge stage where she suspected the Weird Sisters would be playing, and many tables were set up around a dancing area. No one had begun yet because the dinner hadn't been served and the first dance hadn't been taken._

_Alexsey_ _smiled as they walked by the people. Many of the Hogwarts students were wearing faces riddled with surprise and amazement, and to tell the truth, Ginny was soaking up the attention. Then HE looked at her, and she almost faltered. Harry's eyes made contact with hers. It was hard to tell what he was thinking. Disappointment maybe, concern, fear? It didn't matter to her; it was widely known that he was head over heels for Cho Chang, the pretty Ravenclaw girl with the Hufflepuff champion. And Ginny was by no means in love (or whatever) with him anymore. That all ended at the end of her first year, when people had deserted her. He was looking at her too; his gray eyes boring into the back of her head. Ginny made eye contact for a moment and saw he was indeed with Pansy, who was looking particularly foolish._

"_I haff a seat vith the rest of my school; vould you like to sit there?" Alexsey asked her._

_Ginny looked at Draco again and said, "Yes, please."_

_They headed over to the Durmstrang seats and sat by many of Alexsey's friends, most of whom were Russian or at least knew the language. Ginny had done a bit of extra research and understood a lot of what they were saying, but she couldn't put a sentence together to save her life._

"_она сексуальная, какой дом - она из," one_ _of_ _Alexsey_'_s_ _friends_ _asked._

"_она - из змей, и да, она" Alexsey_ _replied._

"_Вы собираетесь иметь секс с ею," another of his friends said._

"_если она хочет," he answered._

_She was fairly sure they were talking about her and whether or not he was going to have sex with her, but she wasn't sure. They continued for a bit, then Alexsey said something like, "I have prettier people to talk to, get your own girls/dates/wives," in Russian. He turned to her, smiling, and said, "Sorry, catching up a bit. Many of my classmates didn't find dates as pretty as you."_

"_I noticed," she said dryly. They ordered their food and ate, their conversation circulating around school mostly. A bit of Quidditch too, which Alexsey was very fond of. He said he was going to try out for the Russian National team when he was out of Durmstrang._

_Finally, the four champions danced, and everyone was allowed on the floor. Ginny was a bit worried that Alexsey would tread on her toes; he was quite a bit bigger than she and didn't look too graceful. And even though he said Karkaroff (whom she was beginning to dislike because he kept leering at her like she was a piece of meat) required them all to learn how to dance._

_They stepped onto the floor and were swept away by the song, which was fast. They almost got run over by her brother and his date, Angelina Johnson. But finally, a slower song came, and Alexsey smiled as he brought her close to him. In Ginny's opinion, it was a bit awkward because he was so much taller than she; he reached almost six feet and three inches, and she was five feet, five inches. But he just put his hand on her lower back and pulled her in, rotating slowly in one spot._

"_Вы красивые подобно бризу пружины, пасущемуся вновь расцветенное цветы. Ваши глаза напоминают нас холодного мрамора в царе дворцовом, плавном и серьезном. Ваша кожа - похожий porcelin_ _Я хочу разорить снова и снова," he_ _whispered_ _in_ _Russian_ _into_ _her_ _ear. __She had no idea what it meant, but it was very alluring in a rough, primal sort of way._

_Ginny was sure he was going to kiss her until the music started again, and she saw Draco walking over. He tapped Alexsey on the shoulder and said, "Ginevra has reserved a few dances with me; I hope this is all right."_

"_Yes, I vill just go and get drinks. Haff fun," he said politely, backing off._

_Ginny drew a deep breath, and Draco took one of her hands and secured the other around her waist. "I told you he was bad news," Draco said once they were dancing._

"_What is it with you and saying that? He's been nothing but polite to me," Ginny said in a dull, somewhat cold voice._

_Draco_ _snorted._

"_Did you know everyone is looking at us?" Ginny said to Draco._

"_And why shouldn't they?" he asked back._

_Ginny rolled her eyes and said, "What do you think they would say if they knew you tucked me in every night?"_

_Draco_ _shrugged. "I'd just make more 'Potter Stinks' badges."_

"_Well, that's childish," Ginny said._

"_You can only expect so much out of a fourteen-year-old boy," Draco said dismissively._

"_I guess," Ginny said. Then they lapsed into one of their comfortable silences, and Ginny caught herself enjoying the dance a few times. She also caught something else. She wasn't sure if Draco knew it or not, but the thumb of the hand on her back was making little patterns on her skin. Ginny decided he did know and to ignore it for now. But soon their dances ended, and Pansy came over with some lame arse excuse to "steal Draco for a minute." Ginny nodded at Draco, and he nodded back._

_Ginny danced with Alexsey for a few more dances, and then they sat in the far corner of the room, talking. He never again tried to kiss her. They actually laughed at the other people, especially Viktor, who looked particularly silly dancing around like a duck. They laughed as Fleur Delacour dragged Roger Davies out of the room. Alexsey didn't seem too taken with the half-veela, which encouraged Ginny about his personality.

* * *

_

Looking back, he really was a nice guy. I mean, he was very polite and everything. He didn't even try to kiss me as he left me at my common room. I think now a reason he was attracted to me was Nefertiti's ring; it has a sort of "glamour," if you will. I had got into the habit of wearing my rings all the time, sometimes around a necklace and sometimes on my fingers. You'll find out later why that decision was good.

Anyway, I went into the dorm rooms, and Draco had to help me out of my dress; it really was kind of embarrassing, but oh well. He said good night, and I flopped down on my bed. I had "let my hair down," as McGonagall says, for a night, and I was pretty relaxed. Soon I drifted to sleep...

_The mist enveloped her again. Spinning in what seemed like slow motion and suspended in the air, Ginny was only vaguely aware of what was going on. She tried to open her eyes, and when she did, the mist cleared, and she was standing in the middle of a beach scene on some island. It appeared to be quite small as she could almost see the other side of it over the horizon.

* * *

_

"_Ginevra," a husky voice said._

_Ginny turned around and was face to face with the most exotically beautiful woman she had ever seen. She wasn't so much intimidating like Morgan, Nefertiti, and Nysilia, more like an un-ignorable entity who was just there. She had almond shaped eyes, darkly tanned, bronze skin, long black hair, and wore a leaf skirt decorated with shells. She wasn't that much taller than Ginny, standing about two inches taller, and she was very shapely._

_She smiled good-naturedly at Ginny and said, "I see you have made it this far, Ginevra. I'm sure you wouldn't mind going a little further."_

"_I suppose I wouldn't," Ginny answered._

_The woman smiled. "I'm Hina, the Maiden of Primal Lust, in other words the Sex Maiden. That's a bit of an oxymoron. How can you be a 'maiden' of sex? It just sort of implies you can't be a virgin. And you, you're supposed to be a Virgin of Light. Pft, like that'll last long. You're what, thirteen, fourteen? If you lived on my islands, you'd already have kids."_

_Ginny looked at Hina blankly. She sure wasn't like any of the other maidens. She was more down to earth, more sensible. And she obviously liked to talk._

"_So, about your ring," Hina continued. She muttered something like "where'd I put that damnable thing?" and searched through a leather pouch on her side. "Where the fuck did that thing go?" she grumbled. "Ah! Here it is!"_

_Ginny took the ring from Hina. It was different from the other rings; this one was made of wood, and the words were engraved in it. "It says, 'Virgin-Maiden of Lust' on it. I'm sure you can guess what you'll want to do when you wear it. Use it wisely, because when used in combination with Nefertiti's ring, you can basically make men, or women if you prefer them, do whatever you want."_

_Ginny looked at it speculatively. "I don't think I'll be using this one."_

_The woman raised her eyebrow and said, "Oh, well, if you don't want it, I'm sure we can find some other Virgin of Light. NOT! And if you want your damnable powers, you have to learn about every ring; that means wearing it."_

_Ginny's eyes widened. "What powers?"_

"_Nefertiti didn't tell you?"_

_Ginny shook her head._

"_Well, no wonder you are lost! You were probably getting high off of Nysilia's ring, weren't you?" Hina said with a smile. Ginny blanched, and Hina laughed at her. "That is some potent stuff right there. But that isn't what they are for! Geez, rookies. Anyway, to gain the powers of the Virgin of Light, you have to have all seven rings in your possession, and you have to know them. Before you ask, no, I don't know what they are, but supposedly they are awesome. So in order to 'know' a ring, you have to use it. So I suggest getting yourself un-virginized and fast."_

"_Un-_un-virginized_?"_ _Ginny choked out._

_Hina_ _gave her a disbelieving look, one eyebrow up and her jaw ajar. "So when two people are in love, they start getting urges to share their love –"_

"_I KNOW WHAT SEX IS!" she yelled, her face getting a little red._

"_Thank the gods, I thought I was going to have to give you the birds and bees lecture," Hina grumbled._

"_Why do I have to have sex to 'understand' the ring? I thought I was supposed to be the VIRGIN of Light," Ginny argued._

"_Technically you are the Virgin of/from Light. The description is sort of hazy," the woman said with a sarcastic nod of her head. "So, go, make sweet, beautiful love, and understand the ring. What was that line again? I give – no, impart, my knowledge and training to you. Yes, so off you go! Oh, one more thing, my ring is a contraceptive device! Bye!"_

_The mist rose again, and Ginny woke with a start.

* * *

_

I know what you're thinking. "Mate, she's like thirteen. Isn't that, like, a little young...or something?"

I KNOW! I was thirteen. Who ever heard of sex (I take that back, good sex) at thirteen? Not you? Not me either. Needless to say, that ring was going to stay on my necklace for a while...a long, long, long while.

Anyway, after the Yule Ball was winter break, and I basically hung around the common room. I didn't do that too much because I was quote-unquote shunned by the other Slytherins. I'd show them. I'd show them all.

I remember Christmas morning...I don't know what to say about Christmas morning. I don't know how to describe how I felt.

* * *

_Ginny woke and rolled out of bed. It was Christmas. She sighed and looked over the edge of her bed. Not like she really thought she'd get a Weasley jumper, but it could happen._

_It didn't._

_But there was something else there. She frowned. Who would give her a present? _Alexsey_, she thought. _Maybe Draco, but I never pinned him as the Happy Christmas-and-caroling type. _Ginny crawled to the edge of her bed and looked at the box on the table. It was small, about the size of her fist._

_Ginny was carefully unwrapping the present when a dull voice from behind her said, "Most people just rip it open."_

_She didn't have to turn around; she knew it was Draco. "Well, Draco, unlike most people, I haven't had a Christmas present in over three years." She continued unwrapping the present and found a box. She opened it and frowned._

"_Don't like what you got?" Draco asked from behind her._

_She loved it. It was a silver chain bracelet with her name on the plate. It was very beautiful. Ginny licked her lips, unsure how to continue. "Draco –"_

"_It is called a gift," he said coldly, apparently getting upset._

"_I know what it is! I don't know why!"_

"_It is what friends do," he growled._

_Ginny closed her eyes and shook her head. "That is where you made your first mistake. I can't have friends, Draco. To have friends, you have to have emotional attachment. I don't know if you've noticed, but I don't have emotions. I'm dead inside. Do you know what is driving me to live?"_

"_No."_

"_Neither do I! The day I was put in Slytherin, I died. I've been dying a bit more ever since. So what is this? What am I supposed to do? I can't be your friend, Draco. I can't even love. I can't even ANYTHING!"_

_Draco_ _gritted his teeth. "In answer to your questions, it is a gift; you are supposed to wear it. As to your other question, how the hell should I know?"_

_Ginny was silent for a while, then she said quietly, "What am I, Draco? What have I become?"_

"_You are a Slytherin, and you have become heartless."_

_Ginny fell on her bed, looking at the ground. "Have I really become so callous?"_

"_Ginevra," he said. She looked at him. "My father is a Death Eater. I probably will be one too. You should ask him about being callous; I'm not quite qualified yet."_

_She must have reacted in some way to him telling her that, because he said, "What, like you didn't know? Draco Malfoy, not a Death Eater? I'm practically Voldemort's heir."_

_Ginny looked him hard in the eye._ "_I know. Everyone does, or at least suspects. Your secret is safe with me."_

"_That is why you could never be a Death Eater. My father wants me to recruit you, did you know?" he said._

_Ginny rolled her eyes. "A Weasley to spy on the Gryffindors; it would be perfect. Does he know I am not part of them?"_

"_Probably._ _But those Gryffindors are so stupid they would probably believe you if you said you changed your ways."_

"_Yes," Ginny agreed. "They would believe me. But I could never be a Death Eater."_

"_Why? I mean, for curiosity's sake," he asked._

"_Well, first off, I know Tom too well. We don't get along. I'm sure you know all about that though."_

_Draco_ _nodded. "I found it out about a year ago; I wondered why that stupid house-elf left."_

_Ginny snorted. "Watch who you say that around; say it too close to the Gryffindors, and you'll be having a bit of social commentary with your breakfast, lunch, and dinner for the next week. That reminds me. Breakfast, I'm starving. Get out."_

_Draco_ _rolled his eyes and said, "Meet you in the common room."

* * *

_

I'm actually surprised the whole thing went over so well. I still wear that bracelet; even to this day, I wear it. I wear it as a constant reminder of...well, you'll find that out later.

So break ended, and I took on a new project. No, not getting laid. I took on becoming an Animagus. I figured I should do it legally, so I talked to Professor McGonagall, and although she was hesitant about taking me on as an extra credit student, she finally agreed. More like I hounded her for over an hour about it during the Christmas dinner. She said I could start my fourth year, because that was the year she started. She said at my level, I should be done sometime in my sixth or seventh year.

I also talked to Professor Vector, my Arithmancy teacher. She talked to me about moving ahead of my year as well; take a fifth year course or something. What can I say? I'm a genius. Once again, I attribute this to Tom, which just happens to be very weird.

So anyway, the break ended smoothly, and school started again. I went to class, did homework, went to classes, talked to Alexsey, went to classes, talked to Draco, went to classes, studied; you know, the usual.

Really, I'm not sure what that horrid Rita woman was thinking, trying to villainize Harry and all. I mean, I could write better than that in my second year. The trash she was putting out was so far less than convincing, I almost laughed. Ah, my sides...they hurt. Of course, stupid people believed it and even contributed to it. This is where I began having problems with the fourth year girl Slytherins. Normally, I ignored them, they ignored me, standard fare. That didn't stop them from talking about me behind my back when gossip was thin, but again, standard fare. But when I read what they said about Hermione in Rita's interview, I almost blew a gasket. Accusing her of brewing Love Potions, calling her ugly, putting that pus on her envelope. The griffin lived. The lion was furious. The lion was going to get even.

* * *

"_Ginevra, will you please tell me why we are still here?" Draco asked in a bored voice._

_Ginny looked over at the Gryffindor table, having chosen a seat so she could easily see Hermione and gauge her reaction. "Because, I told you, someone will be getting their just desserts."_

_Draco_ _looked at her hard and said, "Will it be funny?"_

"_Sufficiently so," she answered._

_Millicent and Pansy walked into breakfast late, as usual, and sat down a few seats away from her and Draco. That would make it harder, but not impossible.

* * *

_

Two words: Harry Houdini.

One more: misdirection.

* * *

"_Draco," Ginny hissed. "Ask them how their classes are going!"_

_He gave her a look as though she was crazy. "I'm not suicidal, Ginevra," he whispered back._

"_Do it," she said between clenched teeth._

_He stared at her for a moment then put on his greasiest smile and said, "Pansy, Millicent, how are your classes going?"_

_Ginny smiled inwardly and took her wand from her robe. In her bag was the powdered from of the potion she was going to use; all she had to do was get it in their food. Doing a Banishing Charm, she slowly edged the powdered substance discreetly down the table. Inch by inch it traveled until she got it close enough to their food and sprinkled it over._

"_Have a nice day, ladies," Draco said in his most fake-polite voice which Pansy and Millicent happened to love. They giggled._

_Then it happened. They took a bite of food._

"_Ten...nine...eight..."_

"_What are you doing Ginevra?"_

"_...five...four...three...two...one."_

"_AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"_

"_AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"_

_Ah, it was music to her ears._

"_Unholy Mother of Merlin!"_ _Draco said loudly, though the laughter had already started and no one could hear him._

_Millicent and Pansy ran as fast as they could out of the hall, everyone laughing at them as they left crying._

_Everyone laughed; that was the best part. Ginny looked over at the Gryffindor table and stood up to be almost eye level with Harry, Ron, and Hermione. They looked at her, as she was one of the only Slytherins standing. She smiled ever so slightly. Ron's jaw dropped, as did Harry's and Hermione's. Hermione pointed at Ginny, and Ginny nodded her head once, very slowly. Then she sat down and continued her breakfast, enjoying the laughter of the others and pleasantly content with herself._

_Draco_ _looked at her funny, and she said, "I'm not a very nice person, Draco."_

_He looked down at his plate and said, "I didn't say a word. But you were right, it was worth it."_

_She shrugged and headed off to Arithmancy.

* * *

_

Heh, you want to know what I did? Of course you do. You know the Polyjuice Potion, and how it can change you into another person? I put dog hairs in the potion and powdered it. Yes, yes, I am smart, thank you.

The second task came and went just like the end of winter. My class load wasn't lightened a bit, training already for O.W.L.s and everything. It was madness if you asked me, but no one did.

Not much notable happened. I studied hard, whatnot. I have to say, besides writing and painting a bit and talking to Draco, my life was boring...yeah.

Move forward, I guess, to the third task.

You know how I had bad feelings about the Triwizard Tournament? Well, they got stronger. I'd been having dreams, not about the Ring Maidens, but... other... dreams. Death. And pain. I never really remembered them, just the feeling that the cold hand of death had scratched my heart and the stench of death was in my nose. I tried to ignore them; I tried zoning with Nysilia's ring. They invaded me everywhere.

There was only one thing I could do...

* * *

_Ginny waited outside the headmaster's office. She didn't know the password; otherwise, she would have gone up. She had been waiting over an hour when she heard footsteps. She stood and dusted off her robe. The headmaster needed to know; it was worth missing class over._

_"Ah, Ms. Weasley, what can I do for you?" Dumbledore said kindly. _Really,_ she thought, _you can't help love but love him. Then again, you also can't help but wonder if he is totally sane, so...

_Ginny looked into his eyes without fear and said, "I need to speak with you; it's urgent."_

_He looked at her with his piercing blue eyes for a moment and then said, "Follow me."_

_They entered his office, and Ginny sat down across from him, politely crossing her legs._

_"What was it you needed to speak with me about?" he asked._

_Ginny frowned, trying to decide where to start. "Tomorrow is the third task."_

_"Yes."_

_"I've been having dreams. Someone is going to die, Headmaster, I know it," she blurted out._

_He looked at her over steepled hands and said, "I'm sure you can see how that is hard for me to believe; perhaps if you could give me some proof."_

_Ginny sat for a moment, not looking at anything in particular and thinking. _I'm nervous_, she thought, _what do I do? I can put on Morgana's and Nysilia's rings. I can't do it here…but I do it in the dorm...when I'm studying...before I go to bed...and I never remember to take them off...

_"Professor, do you know if Morgana le Fay was clairvoyant?" she asked suddenly._

_"She did sit as the Oracle of _ _Delphi__, why?" he said, looking confused._

_It made perfect sense. Nysilia's ring made things clearer, and Morgana gave her gift to Ginny...her clairvoyance. "Professor, I can't tell you now."_

_He gave her a completely unreadable expression and said, "Is there anything I can do?"_

_Ginny nodded her head. "Take care of Cedric."_

_Then she fled the room; she needed to think a while and look over some of her journal entries.

* * *

_

I knew it would be him. I'm not sure how I knew it would be him; it was as though he had an aura I could see. I hated it! It was all so FRUSTRATING! I couldn't tell him, and I wanted to! Isn't it odd that even though I was Slytherin, I still supported Dumbledore? It was as if I had a job to do, and it involved being loyal to him. I really don't even know how to communicate my emotions to you.

Draco watched me intently as I put on my black petty coat. I had made it earlier that day, expecting that I would have a funeral to go to. Isn't that morbid? Though it was quite pretty. It was a knee length black skirt and formfitting black petty coat; I also had a black hat with veil that went with it.

* * *

_"What are you doing?" he finally asked._

_"Preparing for the funeral," she answered.

* * *

_

I went down to the pitch to watch the third task, feeling awful that I knew what was going to happen. I sat in the Slytherin section, and people looked at me oddly because of what I was wearing. I just sat there, impassive, no thought really in my head but Nysilia's ring on my pointer finger so I would have control of my body and not have to feel the pain writhing inside me.

Red sparks went off, and I almost thought someone had got the trophy. No, it was Fleur and Viktor needing to be rescued.

Red sparks again. But still no one had won. In fact, there wasn't anyone on the course anymore. No one at all. I frowned as the headmaster and the professors ran down to the course and began looking for something, or someone.

* * *

_Ginny stood up and began walking off the stadium. She needed to know if she was right. A hand tried to hold her back._

_"Ginevra," Draco said, his voice sounding distant to her ears, "what are you doing?"_

_She turned to him and saw concern on his face. Then she walked down the field. People looked at her as she left, looked at her like she was crazy, like she was cursed or diseased. She didn't care. It wasn't about them; it was about Cedric. He was a good person; good people didn't die, right?_

_She walked onto the field and through the path the teachers had cleared. The parents and siblings and close friends of the contestants were there too, along with a dazed Viktor and a sobbing Fleur. A person rushed by her; it was her house's professor._

_"What are you doing here? Go back to the stadium, or I'll deduct points," he said harshly._

_She was about to open her mouth when someone said, "Leave her there, Severus." It was Dumbledore, and he was giving her the most piercing, intense look she had ever experienced._

_Snape glanced at her sideways, and Ginny got the feeling he was looking through her soul. Nervously, she added Morgana's ring for support. Images flashed by her mind so fast she could barely keep up with them. Then, as abruptly as they began, they stopped, and Ginny had to take a step backwards to catch herself from falling._

_Drowsily, she looked up at Dumbledore. In a hollow, dead voice, eyes not fully focusing, she said, "It has happened. It is HIM, he has come."_

_Then she glanced at where the trophy should be. "The Hufflepuff is gone; he didn't last through the fog."_

_She pulled down her veil and looked at the ground. The muffled voices of Snape and Dumbledore were background to her thoughts. _I could have saved him. I could have stopped him. I could have done something. It is my fault. Tom, you shall pay for the life you've taken here; you will pay with your life.

_She was only vaguely aware of Snape leading her into the headmaster's office and sitting her in a chair. Everything felt fuzzy, everything felt wrong._

_She looked around the office in a daze; it was as golden as she remembered it in her first year. Just as safe, too. Then she spotted a dog, a big, black, shaggy-looking dog. Her face scrunched up in confusion. Why would the headmaster have a dog in his office? And how could it look at her like that? It was as if his eyes were measuring her. It was weird; dogs couldn't do that._

_Another seizure of visions hit her, and she jerked as they flashed before her eyes. Coughing and on the ground, she pulled off Morgana's and Nysilia's rings; teach her to do that again. But it was too late; she KNEW. She knew it all._

_The dog was looking at her with a cocked head. She looked at it disbelievingly and whispered to herself, "Not a dog...not a dog...Animagus...Peter Pettigrew," then louder and addressing the dog, "You're not a dog."_

_If she could speak dog...or whatever...she could have sworn the dog was surprised. It padded over to her and sniffed her carefully. She pushed his head away and said, "Not a dog." She stood and repeated, "Not a dog, not a dog. Black...Sirius Black. You're not a dog."_

_The dog/Sirius looked at her for a moment, and Ginny said in a more composed manner, "I know...everything. It is okay. I know."_

_The dog seemed to be measuring her up again, and then he transformed. He was tall, gaunt and white, as though he hadn't seen the sun or a good meal for months. _Well, obviously, Gin_, she thought, _he's been in Azkaban and then on the run. Those sorts of things will do that to a person.

_"How?" he asked in a hoarse, unused voice._

_"How? How? I know," she scoffed, crossing her arms across her chest. "I'm cursed," she spat._

_He looked at her oddly, though not like other people did. He looked at her like she was a person who was troubled, not a person who was insane and beneath them. It was like pity. "Who are you?"_

_"Ginevra Weasley," she answered, emotionally detaching herself._

_He frowned in thought and said, "Ginny? Ginny Weasley?"_

_"Some people call me that."_

_He nodded. "Yes, I've heard of you, through Harry mostly. I knew your parents. They were a few years ahead of me at Hogwarts; good people, both of them."_

_Ginny looked at the ground. "Yeah, good Gryffindors. Always good Gryffindors." Then she looked him in the eye. "That's what you meant. Good Gryffindors. How the hell did they get a daughter like me is what you meant. Bad things don't happen to good people, right? And now he's dead, and I knew."_

_"That isn't what I said," Sirius said slowly. "And who is dead? What has happened?"_

_"Tom happened. He killed that boy...and it was my fault because I knew..." she said slowly. "Cedric died because I couldn't convince anyone..."_

_"Who are you?" he asked again._

_Ginny looked ruefully in his eyes and said, "I don't know." She took off her hat and sat back down on the chair._

_"Dumbledore called you because of me," Ginny said quietly. "He wanted extra protection for Harry because I came to him and said someone would die. He thought it was Harry and left Cedric almost defenseless. It shouldn't have been like this...I was supposed to be doing the right thing..."_

_"How'd –" he began, but Ginny looked at him and tapped her head. "Right."_

_There was an uncomfortable silence, and then, a bit awkwardly, Sirius said, "Harry talks about you in his letters."_

_Ginny made a short, nasal laugh and muttered, "I bet he does. 'Watch out, evil Slytherin coming though. Look kiddies, even the best Gryffindors have their bad seeds. Oh, no, don't touch, you might catch it.' I bet he has a whole lot to write about me. Evil Ginny Weasley, that is me!"_

_Sirius looked a little uncomfortable, "Well, not really..."_

_Ginny glanced at him sharply. "Look me in the eye when you lie to me; it makes me feel better."_

_A muscle in his eye twitched, and he said coldly, "Did you ever think maybe you deserved to get in Slytherin?"_

_"If I didn't then, I do now. I'm not a very good person, Black," she said dismissively._

_"So they say."_

_"Ah, good, old, reliable 'they.' Need to know the answer, go to 'they.' 'They' will know. 'They' my arse," she spat._

_Sirius frowned. "You sound as old as I feel."_

_"I sound like a person who has died, if that is what you mean."_

_"I'm pretty close to death myself," he said casually. "Just how old are you?"_

_"The ripe old age of thirteen," she replied sarcastically. "Once an innocent girl wanting nothing but to follow her older brothers' footsteps, now, after only three years on the poison, a heartless machine."_

_He raised an eyebrow through his dark, long hair, but didn't say anything. Then she jerked slightly. It was possible the clairvoyance of Morgana's ring had side effects, because she was still seeing the future._

_"What? What happened?" Black asked anxiously._

_Ginny blinked her eyes a couple of times. "I...HE is all right. He's returned...alive, though barely. Amos has seen Cedric...oh, no."_

_Sirius let out a sigh of relief._

_"But he is in trouble still...traitor...not Moody...not...Moody..."_

_"What are you babbling on about?" Sirius almost shouted._

_"Moody isn't...Moody...never has been," Ginny said in a distant voice. "He's a traitor...I don't know anymore."_

_Sirius began pacing back and forth. A couple of times, he stopped and looked like he was going to ask Ginny something. Ginny had curled up in a ball, fingering Nysilia's ring as she thought._

_Then the door opened, and Sirius swooped in on Harry. "Harry, are you all right? I knew it – I knew something like this – what happened?"_

_Sirius's hands shook as he helped Harry into the chair in front of the desk. Ginny still hadn't looked at him or moved. She knew HE was alive, but she also knew Cedric was dead...a good person..._

_"What happened?" Sirius asked more urgently._

_Dumbledore began to tell Sirius everything Barty Crouch had said. Ginny listened intently, amazed how close her prediction had been._

_Then there was a soft rush of wings. Fawkes, the phoenix, had left his perch, flown across the office, and landed on Harry's knee. Ginny looked over at him._

_"'Lo, Fawkes," Harry said quietly. He stroked the phoenix's beautiful scarlet-and-gold plumage. Fawkes blinked peacefully up at him._

_Much to Ginny's chagrin, Dumbledore stopped and looked at Harry. Harry avoided his gaze._

_"I need to know what happened after you touched the Portkey in the maze, Harry," said Dumbledore._

_"We can leave that till morning, can't we, Dumbledore?" said Sirius sharply. He had put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Let him have a sleep. Let him rest."_

_Ginny bit the inside of her mouth; Harry did look like he could use a good rest._

_"If I thought I could help you," said Dumbledore gently, "by putting you into an enchanted sleep and allowing you to postpone the moment when you would have to think about what happened tonight, I would do it. But I know better. Numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you finally feel it. You have shown bravery beyond anything I could have expected of you. I ask you to demonstrate your courage one more time. I ask you to tell us what happened."_

_Ginny's lower lip trembled. It was like her...her and the ring. She made up her mind right then and there never to use it again like that. It was wrong and not worth it._

_The phoenix let out one soft, quavering note. It shivered in the air, and a tear slid down his face. Harry began, apparently strengthened by the healing qualities of the tears._

_He spoke of everything, and all of it confirmed what Ginny had seen, or clarified it. He explained what happened at the graves, with Cedric, how the Death Eaters came, the Priori Incantatem, the origin of his wand and Tom's, the ghosts, everything._

_Ginny gritted her teeth. "Was he in pain?"_

_Everyone looked at her. "Tom," she repeated. "Was he in pain? Did it hurt him?"_

_Harry's mouth opened a few times, and he said, "I didn't see, I suppose though, I...I heard screaming."_

_Ginny leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms, "Good."_

_Dumbledore shook his head and said, "I will say it again. You have shown bravery beyond anything I could have expected of you tonight, Harry. You have shown bravery equal to those who died fighting Voldemort in the height of his powers. You have shouldered a grown wizard's burden and found yourself equal to it – and you have now given us all what we have a right to expect. You will go to the hospital wing. I do not want you returning to your dormitory tonight. A Sleeping Potion and some peace...Sirius, would you like to stay with him?"_

_Sirius nodded and stood up. He transformed back into a great black dog and walked Harry out of the office, accompanying him down a flight of stairs and to the hospital wing._

_"Ginny," Dumbledore said, looking at her with his blue eyes._

_Ginny raised her head to him._

_He sighed and said, "You told me someone would die."_

_She nodded._

_"I would like to know why."_

_But that was the problem; she didn't rightly know. If she were a true Slytherin, she would have kept it inside, right? "I suppose I thought it was my duty."_

_"Duty. I wonder...would you mind putting on the Sorting Hat for me?" When she shook her head, he got up and snatched it from the top shelf._

_Ginny looked at it for a minute and then slipped it on. "Ah," a small voice said in her ear, just loud enough for Dumbledore to hear. "Back again so soon? What is this? A second Sorting?"_

_"No," Dumbledore said, "I want you to tell me what house she should be in."_

_"I stand by my first decision; this girl should be a Slytherin," it said. Dumbledore frowned, took the Hat from Ginny's head and put it on the shelf._

_He sat back at his desk and said, "Are you sure there is nothing you want to tell me?"_

_"There are loads of things I want to tell you," she replied._

_"Let me rephrase that; is there anything you can tell me?"_

_"Not now," Ginny said longingly._

_Abruptly, Ginny stood, nodded to the headmaster, and left the room.

* * *

_

Looking back, the smartest thing I ever did was not telling Dumbledore about the rings. It would have been my undoing for sure. No! He isn't a traitor! Great Merlin, the things that go through your minds!

No, I say that because...I'll get to that later. One has to go chronologically when explaining these things.

Anyway. Time moved on. Time moved on for everyone, even me. No, as cool as it would be, time doesn't stop when I want, nor does it speed up or slow down. Though I have noticed that although people say time is their enemy, she rarely chooses sides. And she moved for us all.

I finished top of my class for the third year in a row, much to the displeasure of many Ravenclaw students who reserved nasty glares just for me. On a side note, I'd show them. The bad news was I wouldn't be taking Transfiguration anymore. I mean, once you pass in the top of your class in the advanced curriculum, what is the point? Though I was doing the Animagus training with McGonagall. I would be taking the Arithmancy fifth year course next year as a fourth year; fun, eh? I thought so!

On the other hand though, I wasn't over the whole "my fault" thing; I still thought I could have...would have…saved Cedric had I convinced someone. I wore black all the time; an eternal state of mourning, I called it. Though it probably wouldn't be so eternal; until the end of the school year, at least. I mean, I had Transfigured all my clothes black, I could Transfigure them back if I had an insane urge to wear pink...major "if" right there.

It was with a heavy heart that I packed my trunk that last evening, it was Leaving Feast already...oh (insert sarcasm) how I love Leaving Feast...cough, cough.

* * *

_"Remember Cedric," Dumbledore said as he concluded his speech. He had just shocked people senseless by telling them that Cedric was killed by Tom, saying Voldemort in front of them, telling them everyone was welcome back, and telling them how Cedric died. "Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory." _

_Again they drank to the fallen boy. _Just a boy,_ Ginny thought sadly, _a boy with dreams, and hopes, and friends, and a chance at doing good things. Tom killed him.

_She took a drink of her pumpkin juice and swallowed hard. It had been tough for the last couple of days, not using Nysilia's ring to numb herself. But she was pulling though. _Fine time to go cold turkey, Gin._ It was hard, but she was doing it. Though without the ring, it was easier for the lion to gain territory, and this was dangerous, especially sitting in the middle of the Slytherin table._

_Then she heard them._

_"I know, Pansy, I mean, he was just, like, a Huffle-puss; it isn't like it was a Slytherin."_

_"I know! And they want me to raise my glass to Potter for doing what exactly? He brought back a dead body."_

_It was sick and wrong! He was dead! An innocent, dead, just like that! And they were – they were – were talking about him like he was some schmuck off the street._

_"If I have to see Cho Chang crying in the hall one more time, I'll go berserk, Milly. Really, just who does she think she is? Get over it."_

_It was the laugh that really got to her. She stood and said louder than was needed, "I WON'T let you talk about Cedric like that."_

_Everyone was looking at her, everyone in the hall, including the teachers._

_"Talk about him how?" Pansy said, intimidating, challenging._

_"You FUCKING BITCH! YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT! I WON'T LET YOU TALK ABOUT HIM LIKE HE WAS SLIME UNDER YOUR SHOES! CEDRIC WAS A THOUSAND TIMES THE PERSON YOU COULD EVER HOPE TO BE, YOU SLUTTY WHORE!" Then she lunged at Pansy, jumping clear off the table and delivering her deadly right hook right into her nose. She heard the bone snap. But still Ginny kept at her. Pansy was so surprised by the physical attack she couldn't even fight back. Ginny had thrown her off the bench, pinned her on the floor, and was pounding Pansy into the ground._

_Finally, once Ginny's knuckles were sufficiently bloodied, someone hauled her off of Pansy; it was Snape._

_"Get away from me!" she screamed as Snape tried to pull her away. She turned to Pansy, who was crying and said coldly, "I'd say it is a drastic improvement from your first nose, bitch."_

_She threw off Snape's hand again as he was trying to calm her down, "Leave me alone!" she screeched at him. Then Ginny turned on her heel, and as she was leaving, she hesitated at the head of the Hufflepuff table. Her jaw trembling and voice full of emotion, she said, "I'm sorry." Then she left the Great Hall.

* * *

_

I sat by myself that trip home; there wasn't much to talk about. I had successfully alienated myself from everyone, and I mean everyone. I think Draco would have been there, but he was off getting himself in trouble with Harry and my brother, probably trying to get them all riled up.

Mum picked me and my brothers up at the station. All ride home, they looked at me oddly. I was getting used to it.

It was going to be a long summer.


	5. Year Four, Part One, Learned

**Author's Notes:** Yeah, so I wrote this before OotP, so everything here on out is officially AU. Wait…what am I saying? This whole fic is AU! Happy reading!

* * *

**CHAPTER FIVE: Year Four, Part One, Learned**

"There is much pleasure to be gained from useless knowledge."

– Bertrand Russell (1872 – 1970)

* * *

I had successfully alienated myself from everyone I could possibly rely on. Though I admit I would have to be more stupid than anyone ever thought if I was planning on relying on Slytherins. I remind myself that I am a Slytherin, in body and in mind now. I learned a deadly lesson that day in the Great Hall; emotions are dangerous. Emotions are the reasons people die. Emotions are the reasons people sacrifice. Emotions are the reasons people hurt. I didn't want to hurt anymore. I never wanted to hurt that much again, ever. It is unimaginable, having to face those years of hate and bigotry, and fear, and loneliness.

I see now that I was wrong, and it was a very Slytherin thing to do to go and hide under the sheet of ignorance. Whoever coined the phrase "Ignorance is bliss" was right. I would rather not know the good things about emotions, like love and tenderness; I would rather hide from the pain and hurt along with the love, than face them all at once.

That was what distinguished me, I think. A Gryffindor plunges head first into the fray, her wand drawn and a determined mindset. A Slytherin watches for a while, then after determining it is safe, she wanders out at the last minute, taking down one or two of the foes, then claiming the victory the Gryffindor earned. We are weak; we are pathetic; I am part of the we.

I would have walked with my people if I could find them, but I couldn't. I obviously was more Slytherin than Gryffindor, but I was also brave; why else would I have beaten the shite out of that bitch Pansy? Why else would I have had the guts to pull that prank on them? I sure as hell don't know; I'm asking you. I think now I have no people...

That summer would be the summer I learned. It was like an addiction, a new addition, a new drug for me to immerse myself in. You know how addicts move from one drug to the more potent ones? How they need to find something more powerful to fulfill their needs after them become immune to the first drug? I'm not saying that I would ever need a more potent drug than Nysilia's ring, but I never realized there was a more potent one. To tell the truth, it was hard for me to separate myself from the Ice Ring; even to this day, I feel the need. But to my credit, I was able to cut down the time I used it to nearly a fourth, though that was mainly because I was busy doing something else.

I was given something early in that summer; and I discovered something too...

_

* * *

_

_Ginny was doing her customary "thinking" session in her tree house. She had been in there roughly two days without food or sleep, and she wasn't all that tired yet. It was the third day around noon, about the time the sun would create little specks on the light brown wood of the tree house through the leaves, when she began to slip. The place between sleep and awake opened up to her, and she willingly stepped though the door._

_She stepped though a metaphorical as well as a physical one and found herself in a dusty room stacked with books. Bookshelf upon bookshelf as high as she could see and then messy stacks of books, and all of this in a room littered with paper, quills and empty ink bottles. She inhaled deeply and could practically smell the age of the books. It was alluring to her, like a familiar and comfortable smell._

"_Hello, Ginevra," a kindly voice said._

_A woman, half-hidden by the books stacked on an old desk, seemingly appeared out of nowhere. She was small of stature, but cute in an elfin, child-like way. She had a button nose, very pale skin, and bright purple eyes, which disturbed Ginny in the slightest way. The woman's hair was black as midnight_ _and in a messy bun at the top of her head which was partially held back by a pair of reading glasses. The woman wore plain black robes, and the most interesting thing about her appearance was the huge tattoo that wound around her neck and partially onto her face. On closer examination, Ginny saw that it probably extended down to her arms as there were more winding lines that appeared from under her sleeves._

"_Hello," Ginny said in an awed voice; still was she enchanted by the age of this room._

"_It was so nice of you to come; I was hoping I'd get a person to talk to. I haven't had any candidates in almost one hundred years, more I think. Oh, how forgetful of me; I'm Chani, the Virgin of Intellect. I believe I'm the only actual virgin of the seven of us, though Nysilia refuses to tell us. Anyway, nice to meet you."_

"_Nice to meet you, too," Ginny said._

_Chani_ _stood up and walked over to a shelf, the only shelf devoid of paper and books, and took off it a single, small box. She opened it, and inside there was a small ring made of solid silver. Scripted in the side was a language Ginny had never seen._

"_It says 'Virgin-Maiden of Intellect' in Tamil, the oldest known language. It's for you," she said, holding it out to Ginny. She took it and examined it. "Probably not the most fancy of rings, but definitely the only one that will make you smarter. Don't get me wrong, you'll have to work to get there, but soon, you will be multiplying polynomials and discussing the Bolsheviks with the best of them._

"_Now there was something I was supposed to say...Oh, I impart my knowledge and training to you, Ginevra Weasley."_

_Then Chani looked at her and smiled. "I hope you are the one, Ginevra; the time is coming dangerously close. Morgana has been ranting about it for decades. Though in my opinion, seers are very rare and highly unreliable."_

"_Tell me about it," Ginny said under the breath._

"_Oh," Chani said in recognition. "You put on Nysilia's and Morgana's rings at the same time; didn't you?"_

_Ginny nodded._

"_Terrifying, isn't it?"_

_Ginny frowned. "I wasn't scared."_

_A muscle in Chani's mouth twitched, and she said, "Of course not."_

_Ginny licked her lips and brought up enough courage to ask her what she had wanted to know. "What are those tattoos for?"_

_Chani_ _looked at her hands and said, "These tattoos? Well, I suppose that after I studied the Hindu religion, I wanted the sign of intelligence tattooed on me. It sounded like a good idea at the time."_

_Ginny coughed. "It sounded like a good idea at the time?"_

_Chani_ _nodded. "Yes. That is my logic. I was very young at the time though. You know, Albert Einstein once said, 'There are only two things that are infinite, the universe and human stupidity, and I'm not sure about the universe.' Very smart man, he was, Albert Einstein; though he was years and years and years after my time."_

_Ginny smiled at this. She would have to figure out who this Einstein man was; he sounded entertaining._

"_Oh, my time is running short now," the elfish woman said, her voice fading slightly. "It is called a public library; Muggles use them!"_

_And Ginny faded off into the real world once again._

* * *

I guess I never did understand why Chani was Nefertiti's favorite sister. She was weird, not totally aware, and very innocent by my standards. She was in some ways like a Ravenclaw, but more like no house at all.

But I did take her advice, and that was when I discovered the Muggle public library. Okay, this is great. Anyone with a card can check out a book, no money, no time limit, and read it. Or just stay in there and read. And get this: they have basically _EVERY_ book _EVER_ written. And if they don't have a book you want, they will order it for you for free. It was awesome, especially once I discovered what Chani's ring made me want. Information: that is the name of the game.

Oh, but there is a lot to know, and once I put that ring on, I wanted it all. Knowledge, truth, those are what I craved, I still crave.

Euclid, Plato, Sigmund Freud, Karl Marx, Robert Heinlein, Charles Darwin, John Steinbeck, Vladmir Lenin, William Shakespeare, Leon Trotsky, Charles Dickens, Renee Descartes, Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Robert Frost, Montesquieu, John Locke, Homer, Francois Voltaire, Emily Bronte, Aristotle, Copernicus, Virgil, Aldous Huxley, George Orwell, Albert Einstein, Mark Twain, J. D. Salinger, Joseph Stalin, Arthur Miller, Ulysses S. Grant, Erich Remarque, Joseph Heller, Alexandre Dumas, Robert Louis Stevenson, Emily Dickinson, Ezra Pound, Bram Stoker, Daniel Keyes, Maya Angelou, James Fenimore Cooper, Herman Melville, William Goldring, J. R. R. Tolkien, Thomas More, Leo Tolstoy, Tennessee Williams, and Jane Austen.

I loved them, and believe me, when you have been in the back of a library and the silence is both welcoming and suffocating, they seem to love you too. But I loved Jane Austen. I loved _Pride and Prejudice_, _Emma_, _Sense_ _and Sensibility_. I loved the Bronte sisters almost as well. _Jane Eyre_ made me cry almost as hard as _Wuthering Heights_. I loved philosophy just as much and would have paid with my soul to have just one conversation with Voltaire, or Trotsky, or Lenin, or even Locke. I yearned to live the lives of some of the characters. I was swept away with the Fellowship in _Lord of the Rings_. I was captured in the two line beauty by Ezra Pound. I groked with Michael in Robert Heinlein's _Stranger in a Strange Land_. I cried when Pip and Estella walked off together into the sunset (they did too get together)! I even wanted to visit the worlds of _Brave New World_ and _1984_.

I loved them all, and I became engrossed. I walked around with a book in front of my face, for Merlin's sake!

There's something about that ring that moved me. I got enwrapped in a book, and it was as if I was living it. Not to mention that I read and comprehend like _that_! Seriously. I mean, some people read in words or full sentences; with the ring on, I read in paragraphs. I absorbed information like a sponge, and even when I took the ring off, it didn't disappear. I understood what I read, fully understood, and I knew. It was as if I was the all-knowing force in the universe. It was power. It was release. It was numbness. It was escape.

But all good things must come to an end, and so did my library about two months into summer. I had read the whole library in the small town of Ottery St. Catchpole. It was no mean feat either; there were a hell of a lot of books in that library!

And then I made a mistake. I'd been reading Muggle books for a good two months, and, as you know, they have no magic in them. Wizarding books do. Out of sheer boredom, I read _Quidditch_ _Through the Ages_. BIG mistake. Normal wizards, not wearing Chani's ring, want to go out and play a friendly game of Quidditch after reading it. I wanted to join Puddlemere United and be their starting Chaser. I must have had to snap myself back into reality thirty or forty times that week. The book had mad residual effects; I read it and finished it in one afternoon, and I wanted to play Quidditch for the next three weeks! And I did. Constantly. I stole our broom a fair number of times for midnight rides. And sure, I'll tell you the truth, I was damn good at it. I loved it.

Really, it needed to stop. I still wanted to continue writing and painting and reading. I loved those things; they were my first form of distraction. I wanted to write one minute and fly the next. Let's just say I never read a wizarding book while I had Chani's ring on again.

I had pretty much blocked off the outside world with the exception of Draco (whom I owled almost three times a week, and surprisingly enough he owled back) when it happened...

_

* * *

_

"_Really!_ _He can come, for real? And Hermione too?" Ron shouted at the dinner table._

_Ginny rolled her eyes and went back to reading her book._

"_Ahem, yes," Ginny's father answered. "Dumbledore said he should come and live with us for the remaining month of summer, it would be safer."_

"_Safer than what?"_ _Fred asked. Even though he and George had moved out at the end of their year and started their shop on the money Harry gave them, they hung around the house like they lived there._

"_Never you mind that," Ginny's mother said sternly, putting more potatoes on Fred's plate and shaking her head disapprovingly._

"_This is fantastic!" Ron said happily. "He can stay in your old room, and Hermione can stay in Ginny's."_

_Ginny coughed and almost dropped her book in her potatoes. "She most certainly cannot!" Ginny said indignantly._

_Ron's smile faltered a bit. Ginny knew how important it was to him for everyone to get along. Ginny's mum cut in and said, "I'm sure Hermione would like a room to herself, Ron. Harry can stay with you. That means you two," she said, eyeing Fred and George, "will have to clear out all your trick stuff and other things you have in there."_

_Fred and George smiled to themselves, and Ginny returned to her book. She was reading _Candide or Micromegas_. It was by Voltaire, and it was in French, just one of the numerous (German, Italian, Chinese, Japanese, Russian, Spanish, Portuguese) languages she had taught herself that summer._

_Ginny was about to leave the table, when her mother said, "Ginny?"_

"_Mother?"_

"_I am asking you to be civil to Harry and Hermione while they are here. I want it understood that I won't take any insolence from you while they stay here."_

_Ginny looked hard at her mother and said, "I only give the amount of respect and love that people give me. I give the same amount of 'insolence' as well."_

_Then she pressed her book to her chest and walked up the stairs to her room._

* * *

As you can tell, my mother and I didn't exactly get along. In fact, it would be safe to say, we didn't like or even love each other. No. Not even way, way, way down. It just wasn't there. She hadn't said "I love you" to me for the past two years, and I wouldn't let her start. We were different people with different lives and perspectives and opinions and, most of all, morals. She was Gryffindor and I, Slytherin.

But the damage had been done. He was coming, and there wasn't a damn thing I could do to stop it. Looking back – no, that is a story for another time, later maybe.

At any rate, I made sure I wasn't in the house the time he came; I didn't want to deal with it. Actually I was in Germany at the time. Illegal Floo networking, got to love it. It is called being Slytherin; I happen to be good at it. I happen to be sneaky when I need to be. I also happen to have a father who can get me access (unwillingly, albeit, but access) to the WWFN or World Wide Floo Network.

I popped back into the house at about ten thirty that night with a copy of Friedrich Klopstock's "The Messiah." A fantastic play, if I may say so myself, but written in seventeenth century German. Anyway, it was, needless to say, a bit awkward, as Ron, Hermione, and Harry were all in the kitchen, talking after everyone had gone to bed.

_

* * *

_

_Ginny was rushed back into the house by green flames and a sucking feeling, grateful she didn't lose the German library's copy of "The Messiah" because Franz would kill her if she did._

_She dusted herself off and looked up. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were looking at her in the oddest way. She looked at herself again and didn't see anything different. She was wearing black, as usual (she swore she wouldn't wear anything else after Cedric's death), and had no deformities she could see._

"_What?" she asked in an irritated voice._

_Hermione put on a fake smile and said, "It is nice to see you again, Ginny."_

_Ginny nodded and said, "Likewise."_

"_Hello, Ginny," Harry said, still looking oddly at her. It could have been the light, but Ginny could have sworn his eyes didn't shine as brightly as they used to._

"_Hello, Harry," she said in a cold voice, determined not to be intimidated by them. It wasn't like they were trying, but it –_

* * *

Good Merlin! I don't know how to explain it. It is like this: I walked in on them; probably talking about Cedric, and I just walked in. Coincidence? Yes. Weird? Yes. There, that is the best I have._

* * *

_

_Ginny saw Hermione's head turn sideways to read the title of the book. "'The Messiah'? Isn't that in German, Ginny?"_

"_Ja nicht daß es irgendein von Ihrem Geschäft ist. Verlassen Sie mich_ _allein. Alle, von den Sie mich allein verlassen," Ginny answered in German. Then she turned her head coolly and walked out of the kitchen and up the stairs._

"_She speaks German?" Hermione asked. Ginny could hear her still because she had stopped as soon as she was out of ear shot._

"_She's been reading a lot," Ron answered. "She disappears from time to time; we don't know where she goes. Then she turns up to eat...sometimes. She always comes back with lots of books though. We've seen her reading books in French, Italian, Japanese, Russian, you name it; she probably knows the language."_

"_I never knew she was that smart," Harry said, sounding puzzled._

"_She's damn smart," Ron scoffed. "She's got top of her class for the past three years. I mean, last year, she took Advanced Transfiguration –"_

"_The seventh year course?"_ _Hermione asked, sounding surprised._

"_The very same," Ron countered. "Took top of class in that too. She is also taking an advanced Arithmancy class next year. She may even be in your class, Hermione."_

_There was a silence after this. Ginny could tell Hermione didn't like having to compete with her. _Good_, Ginny thought, _maybe I'm proving something to someone. _Then she walked up the stairs into her room and closed the door._

* * *

To get the better of Hermione Granger! Ah, I was in heaven! I of course wrote Draco all about it; he was, in a way, like my second diary, except he wrote thoughtful and thought-provoking things without trying to steal my soul, at least literally. It was very satisfying. Yes, satisfying is a good word for it.

So something had to happen. I can't be around Harry Potter for long without something weird or embarrassing happening.

Let me recreate the scene for you. Okay, I'm standing in my shower; bathing, what else? And to clarify, yes, it is MY shower. I get my own bathroom because I'm the only little girl in the family. Anyway, I'm taking a shower...

_

* * *

_

_Ginny was –_

* * *

Cut! Cut! Cut! I think I have to clarify. I am beautiful, by the way. Yes, I'm not so naïve that I don't know I am beautiful. You know how Weasley women develop fast? Yes, I'd just finished "developing" near the middle of summer. I had barely reached my height goal of 5'7" (that is three, the big zero-three, inches taller than my mother) and had filled out in all the desirable places. Apparently I was quite the "looker," as some would say.

Okay, on with the story.

_

* * *

_

– _rinsing the shampoo out of her hair languidly. The hot water rushed over her as she bathed, and she smiled to herself. She was alone again. It was hard to find time to be alone in her house. Sure, Percy had moved out around the beginning of summer, and the twins hadn't slept in the house since they got out of school, but she had "company." Actually, her brother had company, and she was trying her hardest to ignore and avoid them. Especially the piercing and inquisitive gaze of Hermione, whose new favorite pastime was quizzing Ginny on her knowledge._

_Ginny turned off the shower and dripped dry for a minute, trying to soak up the last of the warmth. She opened the glass door and began searching around for her towel. Then a gust of cold air hit her, and she looked up._

_Harry was staring at her, his jaw open almost as wide as his eyes. Ginny uttered a weak scream and grabbed her towel, throwing it around her body quickly. By the time she looked up again, the door was closed, and Harry was nowhere to be seen. Had it not been for the breath of cold air in the room, she would never have known he was there._

* * *

Embarrassing enough for you? It sure as hell was for me! I was self conscious...oh, wait, no I wasn't. Actually, I was only mildly embarrassed with the whole situation. The fact that Harry was hurting a lot more than I was over it was enough to satisfy me. But it did get me thinking. Maybe it was time for me to solve the whole virginity issue. I mean, sure I was thirteen, but I looked like a sixteen year old. Besides, I was in Slytherin, and I knew for a fact, from one of the participants, that Pansy Parkinson was, in fact, NOT a virgin. Yes, I'm sure it took you all of point five seconds to figure out it was Draco. Aside from being mildly upsetting that I had to listen to him whine about her technique for the next day and a half, it was extremely upsetting that I even knew about it.

Then I did something stupid. Actually, it was so stupid it was stoopid. Yes, with a double "o." Anyway, the 'stoopid' thing was putting on Hina's ring. She warned me. She told me. Did I listen? No. No, I didn't. As soon as I put that ring on, I had the insatiable need to be naked and in the same room as an equally naked member of the opposite sex. Hina wasn't kidding.

NO! No, no, no, a thousand times NO! I didn't "shack up" with Harry. As far as I was concerned, he was a Gryffindor for whom I had mixed feelings.

Actually, the first person I thought of was Franz. He was young, four years older than me at least, and he worked for his father in the German library I always went to. You know how you can tell when a guy is checking you out? You know how he'll strain to look you in the eyes and not at your chest? It was kind of like that. Now, I'm not making any excuses, but that is what men do. They check women out. It is natural and healthy, and they get very sick if they don't. Actually, that last part is a lie, but seriously, it isn't like it is a crime to look at a woman, just as long as you don't corner her in a dark alley and rape her afterwards.

At any rate, that was the sort of vibe I got from him. You know the sort of all-you-have-to-do-is-say-when vibe? So it was only natural for me to go to him. I would have preferred some one like Alexsey, but Franz would do. Alexsey might take it the wrong way, but Franz would see it how I did, as an experience. Plus, he didn't speak English, he wasn't a wizard, he didn't know how old I was, and I couldn't possibly become attached to him. (Okay, apparently virgins are "clingy" to the first person they sleep with. I read this in some book; I don't even remember the name of it now.)

I took the Floo to the library in Germany, right in front of Ron, Hermione, and Harry's noses, no less. I walked out of the wizard's bar and onto the main streets of Berlin, making my way to the library.

_

* * *

_

"_Guten Tag, Franz," Ginny said, walking up to Franz as he was shelving some books that were in High German._

"_Guten Abend, Fräulein, wie geht es Ihnen?"_

* * *

Oh, I suppose I should translate this for you, eh?_

* * *

_

"_Good day, Franz!"_

"_Good morning, miss, how are you?"_

"_Franz! It is me, Ginevra!" she said with a smile._

"_Ah, Ginevra!_ _Come to read some more? I haven't found any books you haven't read yet; come back in a few days," he said with a wink._

_Ginny took Hina's advice and slipped on Nefertiti and Hina's rings at the same time. Then she winked back at him, something she had never done before, and said, "I'm sure you can find something for me to do. I mean, I came all the way here..."_

_Immediately she saw the change. He looked like he was trying very hard and not succeeding in the slightest to look her in the eye and keep his hands well away from her. Ginny took it one step further, almost not able to bear Hina's ring on her finger anymore. "I have a problem, Franz. Maybe we could solve it together. Do you know a place we could go?"_

_He looked as though he was having trouble stringing more than two words together, and Ginny smiled slightly and whispered into his ear, "Take me, Herr."_

_An almost feral look came into his eyes, and Ginny though she might have made a mistake. He was a lot bigger and muscular than she was. He was a big, brawny German boy; what else could she expect? But if he wanted to take advantage of her in any way, he could._

_But as he grabbed her hand and tugged her toward the back of the library and down some old stairs, she knew the only thing he was going to take advantage of was the chance to get off on the job._

_He closed the door quietly, and she felt him press her against the wall of the small room. She could barely see him in the half light, but her eyes adjusted, and she saw his were sparking with something akin to animalistic lust._

_He put his hands on either side of her head, so she couldn't escape even if she'd wanted to and began kissing her harshly. Only through the knowledge the ring gave her was she able to calm him down. She put her hands on his broad chest and ran them up and down his pectorals and stomach. He almost immediately calmed and began kissing her deeper, his hands seeking under her shirt. She arched her back to him, and he growled._

* * *

Really, all in all, the whole experience was educational. Yes, I know, an odd reaction for losing your virginity to a fair-haired, blue-eyed German boy in the back room of a library, but it wasn't anything to brag about. It was good, but I didn't, at that time, see what people made a big deal out of. I thought maybe it was because it meant something when you made love to someone you knew and had feelings for, but I didn't know. In reality, it felt good but not that good. I've had better, and I'm sure you'll hear about it in great detail.

At any rate, my virginity was lost, Franz was Obliviated, and I was free of the one task put on me by Hina; good day, all in all.

I came back to the house around one in the morning and was surprised in the most awful of ways.

_

* * *

_

"_Where were you? Mum was worried sick, Ginny!" Ron said in a harsh whisper as she Flooed back to the house. Hermione and Harry were waiting as well._

_"Well, I guess what they say is true," Ginny said in a dry voice. "No one ever does expect the Spanish Inquisitionº."_

_"The what?" Ron asked, baffled._

_"It was a time in Muggle history when the Spanish punished those that weren't of their belief by killing hundreds, burning libraries, and destroying religious icons," Hermione supplied._

_"Oh," Ron said. Then after realizing he'd gotten off topic, he said in a threatening voice, "I think you owe us an explanation."_

_Ginny did a double take, her eyebrow arched, and looking royally upset. "I...owe you...an explanation? Now that's funny, me owing you something. I'm not sure how that is. But sure, if you must know, I was making wildly passionate love to a German boy in the back room of the _ _Berlin__ Library. Happy, Ronald? Good! Nighty-night, now!"_

_Then she cast him a searing glare and stalked off to her room._

_"Ron," she heard Harry say as she walked away, "she was joking."_

_"But it's funny," Hermione said thoughtfully, "I've seen her with the book she was carrying before."_

* * *

Heh, I bet that got his blood boiling for a while. Me OWING him something; it was enough to make me scream. Feh, stupid Ron.

Other than that, my summer was grand. Okay, so grand maybe not so much, but I did get a lot of reading done. I decided to go in chronological order. I don't know; I'm organized. I even read the Bible, if you can believe it. I'm sure you're wondering either one of two things, A) What religion DO witches and wizards follow? Or B) What did you think about it?

Well, in answer to question A, I'd have to say, it is pretty much a free for all. Some choose to follow the Old Ways and worship the goddess and observe the solstice and equinox festivals. Some choose to follow the new religions, a.k.a. Christianity, Catholicism, etc. Others still choose to follow no religion. I loosely observe the Old Ways, but nothing to the extent of extreme worship. I mean, I have to stay a little loyal; I was born on the autumnal equinox, or Mabon as it is named in the Old Ways.

In answer question B, well, it is a nice story, but I'm not going for it. Personally, either Jesus was the greatest fraud of his time, or he was a great wizard. Either that or the whole thing is true. But, me, I don't believe it. I mean, puh-leeze, virgin birth? Uh-uh, sorry.

I basically didn't do anything different the second half of summer than the first. I did, however, find many interesting ways to sneak out of the house. Apparently, Fred and George had a secret way of leaving (unnoticed, of course) though their closet. I really don't know how I discovered that; one day, I was reading about wizarding construction techniques, and the next I was examining their closet. Chani's ring really does help you connect thoughts, I guess.

That's how I got out most of the time. The other half of the time, I used the Floo when no one was looking, though Harry, Hermione and Ron had an annoying habit of being at the fireplace when I returned. Couldn't they keep their noses in their own business? I finally, about a week before term started, decked Ron and told him if he stalked me like this at school, I would curse him so bad he wouldn't walk straight for months. Had I known I would get such a good reaction, I would have done it sooner.

I got my things from Diagon Alley without seeing Draco; he had been in France for the past month and wouldn't return until he got on the Hogwarts Express. I was anxious to be out of the house, away from my mother and Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

Finally the day of term came, and we all headed off to the Hogwarts Express.

_

* * *

_

_It was the same big red engine. It was the same sounds. It was the same (at least in spirit) nervous first years. It was the same whistle and smell of busy people trying to get in and out of the crowded station. It was all the same. But Ginny wasn't the same. She would never again be that nervous first year; she would never again be that carefree child. She was a cold machine by her fourth year, and she was safe and fearless. And Slytherin._

_"Ginevra," she heard a familiar cold and disinterested voice say._

_Ginny smiled briefly before turning around. "Draco Malfoy," she said, staring into his gray eyes with something akin to fondness. It might have been her imagination, but she could have sworn he gave her a quick sweep with his eyes before looking at her face. She raised an eyebrow._

_"Nothing," Draco answered with a slight smirk._

_Ginny was about to open her mouth when she saw Harry, Hermione, and Ron approaching from behind Draco. Ginny shifted her eyes towards the three and shook her head at Draco almost imperceptivity. That malicious spark in his eyes lit suddenly, and he turned around to greet the three Gryffindors._

_"Not now," Ginny whispered in his ear. The three Gryffindors had stopped, apparently expecting some sort of verbal harassment. But amazingly enough, Draco took Ginny's advice and looped his arm in hers and walked her onto the train._

_"What does she think she is playing at?!?" Ginny heard Ron say loudly._

_Draco didn't say anything until they got on the train and in a private car. "Put on your school robes," he ordered._

_"What?" Ginny scoffed, raising an eyebrow at him._

_"Before someone sees you," he said, riffling through the bag and throwing her black robes at her._

_They hit her in the head, and Ginny tore them away and said in a flustered voice, "What are you talking about?"_

_Almost immediately the compartment door opened, and Abram Montague and Carl Warrington, two seventh year Slytherin Chasers walked in, smirks on their faces._

_"So," said _ _Warrington__, "it is true. Weasley has goods."_

_Montague was licking his lips, looking interestedly at the youngest Weasley. "Trying to keep her all to yourself, Malfoy?" he asked._

_Draco sneered and said, "As a matter of a fact, Ginevra and I are seeing each other, so if you don't mind, keep your hands and eyes to yourselves."_

_He stood and looked the two seventh years in the eye, intimidating, crossing his arms as he asserted his authority. Ginny hadn't noticed how tall Draco had got until that moment. He had not only got taller, but he had filled out a bit. He wasn't quite as muscular as Franz or Alexsey, but he was lean and had a height advantage._

_The two seventh years frowned, and Montague said, "Now, now, Malfoy, share and share alike. But if you are going to be greedy, tell us when you're done."_

_Warrington gave her a lingering look, and the older Slytherins left the room. Draco sank into the seat beside her and said, "That is why."_

_Ginny was silent for a moment and said, "They would rape me, wouldn't they?"_

_Draco nodded. "You are only safe now because they think you belong to me; wouldn't want to upset me in case news gets out to my father. But the damage in done; I suppose you'll be the talk of the common room. How do you like that?"_

_Ginny frowned. "Not at all. I worked hard at being a shadow."_

_Draco looked her in the eye and shook his head. "You'll never be a shadow, Ginevra. You're the flame that makes the shadows." He reached over and twirled her bellybutton-length, bright auburn hair in his fingers before dropping it in a disinterested way._

_There was a silence for a while, and Ginny said, "I'm trying out for the third Chaser position this year."_

_Draco looked doubtfully at her. "You know there hasn't been a female on the team since the seventies?"_

_Ginny nodded. "Alicia Dorny played Keeper from her second to seventh year. In her seventh year, she captained the team to house championship, and after that she played for the Falcons for ten years. I read about it over the summer."_

_Draco smirked. "Oh, that's right; you were quite the bookworm this summer. 'Rousseau says this, _ _Darwin__ says that.' I thought I'd die if I saw another Shakespeare quote."_

_"Cela a raison, le garçon. Je parie je peux parler plus de langues que l'école entière monte, aussi," she retorted in French._

_"Gute Aufgabe, aber Sie kann diesen sprechen," Draco said in retaliation, testing her knowledge of German._

_"Você pensa de você é assim esperto, Draco Malfoy. Pode você falar o português?" she asked in Portuguese, effectively ending the debate._

_"Damn!" he said, sounding amazed. "Just what languages did you learn?"_

_Ginny smiled and said, "German, Italian, Mandarin Chinese, Japanese, Russian, Spanish, Portuguese, French, Farsi, Greek, Dutch, Danish, Latin, and Finnish."_

_Draco blinked a couple of times. "Fluently?"_

_"Those are all the ones I know fluently. I am on my way to being fluent in Arabic, Bulgarian, Hindi, Hebrew, and Serbian," she answered truthfully. She shrugged. "What can I say? I'm good at it."_

_"Apparently," Draco said dully, looking out the window._

* * *

Scared the shit out of him, didn't I? Yes, I like to think I did. I find intimidating people with my intelligence is fun. Anyway, we went to the Sorting Ceremony together, and I was forced to endure spiteful glances from Millicent and Pansy once again. It turned out Pansy had got her nose fixed, and she was a great deal prettier for it, and I can't believe I just said that. Well, it was kind of true. She was nowhere as pretty as me. I am happy to say I was the prettiest girl in my year and maybe even the school, with the exception of maybe Cho Chang, Sarah Fawcett, another Ravenclaw, and Mary Lindstrom, a seventh year Hufflepuff with big, teary looking blue eyes and long blond hair.

I think now the reason I was attractive to my fellow Slytherins was because I was forbidden fruit. I was a Weasley with wild, red hair, and I was extremely beautiful and full figured. Of course they looked at me! I was the new gossip, and I hated it. I did know it would die down after a while, but it wouldn't be easy to bear.

But eventually it passed. It was past Mabon, and I was fourteen and enjoying the feeling of learning. We picked up a DADA teacher who looked like she had been through the mill a bit. She was in her mid thirties but looked a little younger. She had long brown hair she kept in a braid down her back and brown eyes, almost black. She was pretty, I mean, for an aging woman. You could tell her life was hard but that she had been very, very pretty in her youth. The most interesting thing about her was her scar, however. She had a long scar from her left cheekbone almost to her chin.

Her name was Brigid Allen. I recognized the name; she had been a Gryffindor prefect when she was at Hogwarts. She had gone on to be an Auror and had worked under Moody for ten years before retiring for personal reasons. I liked her fine, though she seemed a bit uneasy with me in particular, probably because she knew of my family and knew I was the only Weasley in Slytherin.

School went on without any hitches until the first of October, the day of Slytherin tryouts for the open Chaser, Keeper, and Beater positions. It was because Marcus Flint had finally graduated, as had Bletchley and Bole. I knew there was no one better than me out there, but the fact that my broom was sub-par worried me. I had been looking at a new one for months, literally. It was beautiful and smooth, and it would ride oh so nicely. Too bad it was a Nimbus 2000. But I had solved the price problem. After reading in a few Muggle magazines, I entered an essay contest. I entered and won, surprisingly. So I went to Gringotts, exchanged the money and put it all in my safe. It was just waiting there to be spent. So I did it. I took seventy five Gallons out of my vault and ordered the broom a short week before tryouts. All I have to say is thank Merlin it got there on time.

_

* * *

_

_Ginny waited nervously at the breakfast table. It was the day before tryouts, and she still hadn't got the broom she ordered. The familiar rush of wings was heard, and a huge barn owl swept in the Hall, carrying a broom shaped package. It landed with a thump right in front of Ginny, causing quite a stir at the breakfast table, before getting off into the air again._

_Draco looked sideways at her, and she said, "It's here." Then she stood up, shouldering spite filled glares from Millicent and Pansy and interested looks from _ _Warrington__ and Montague along with her bag, considerably lighter without the Transfiguration book. She headed off to the dormitories to drop off her package before heading to Professor Vector's class._

_It was soon her free period, not having Transfiguration with the rest of her classmates, and she headed out on the field to get her broom legs again. Ripping off the brown packaging, she got on the broom and pushed off. She relaxed as she rose higher in the air, smooth and fluid. Ginny looked up into the sun and out of the corner of her eye saw something rushing at her. She did a barrel roll to her left and spun into a neat dive before pulling up and looking around._

_Warrington, Montague, and Andrew Derrick were about twenty feet above her, Derrick with a club in his hand and a smirk on his face. Ginny began wishing she had worn her shirt all the way buttoned, or sweats, or a parka, or really that she hadn't come out there at all. The way Montague looked at her made her uncomfortable, and she instinctually put Nysilia's and Nefertiti's rings on for support._

_"Well, well, well," _ _Warrington__ said, "what have we here? The youngest Weasley with no Draco to protect her."_

_The three seventh years laughed, and Ginny said coldly, "I don't need a protector," while flying to their level._

_Warrington__ ignored her and said, "Trying out for the team, Weasley?"_

_"No," she said sarcastically, "I just bought a broom and am flying it around for the hell of it."_

_"No need to get so touchy, Weasley," _ _Warrington__ said, gliding a bit closer to her. Ginny held her ground fearlessly. _ _Warrington__ put on a fake sympathetic look and said, "Poor Weasley. I wonder do you know the real reason Malfoy keeps you to himself? No, you wouldn't. You're just a good fuck, and when he gets bored with you, it will be our turn," he mocked, flying so he was face to face with her. "And you'll find out we aren't so forgiving of loose tongues."_

_Ginny frowned and grabbed the collar of his shirt. "You listen to me, _ _Warrington__. I'll not be intimidated. I'll not be mocked, and I'll not be 'fucked,' as you call it. I suggest backing off a bit before my _Weasley_ temper gets any worse."_

_Then she pushed him away roughly, sneering. He looked surprised, as did Montague and Derrick. She gave them a lingering look of superiority before speeding off to the castle._

_The next day, after their last hour, Ginny walked out onto the pitch with Draco. There were seven other hopefuls, including a boy from Draco's year, Blaise Zabini, and a boy from her year, Jonathan Wilkes. The others Ginny had seen in the common room, but didn't know their names. She was the only girl, which made her mildly uncomfortable. But she still had on Nysilia's and Nefertiti's rings for comfort and confidence, which helped ebb her queasiness._

_Warrington__'s eyes roamed her body; Draco put an arm around her waist and sneered at him. Ginny did her best to remain indifferent, but with all the possessive male testosterone, it was hard not to just punch everyone and name _herself _captain._

_"Malfoy, Weasley, nice to see you finally showed up," _ _Warrington__ said smoothly._

* * *

Yeah, I bet it was, the bastard. Merlin, I hated him; I hate most Slytherins, though that isn't abnormal. I wanted to prove myself so much that moment, it was like a raging inferno inside me, something I could never ignore. I like to think I impressed the hell out of them that day, those bastards. They had no choice but to put me on the team; I was too good. I was too good, and they knew it; that was possibly the best thing about it.

Grudgingly, Warrington, the new captain, selected me as the new Chaser, Jonathan Wilkes as the new Keeper, and a sixth year boy, Henry Morrison, as the new Beater. I was, of course, the only girl, and the smallest player. Everyone outweighed me by about forty pounds. But I was also quicker than everyone, something our team could use against the opposing teams as a surprise tactic. Slytherin was famous for strength, not speed or tactics. With Draco and me on the team, tactics and speed would become two of our strong points.

Thank Merlin, Warrington wasn't too stupid to figure this out; I might have had to beat it into him with Derrick's bat if he didn't. But that doesn't mean the boys on the team left me alone; far from it. They made fun of me, made sexual jokes, tried to look up my skirts, grabbed my bum (in practice and in the halls), tried to brush up against me whenever they could, and were general asreholes. But only when they thought Draco didn't see.

Other than being on the Quidditch team, life didn't change much from the last year. I still stayed to myself. I still almost lived in the library. I still wrote in my diary, composed poems, and sketched and painted whenever I could. I still did well in classes (thank you, once again, Tom). Draco still tucked me in every night. Though really we had conversations now as opposed to the previous years where we would just exchange insults and whatnot. I actually talked to him. Really, he wasn't as bad as people made him out to be. He didn't want to be a Death Eater, or so he told me, and he didn't want to follow in his father's footsteps. He said all he really wanted was to be filthy rich and do nothing, perhaps play Quidditch if he was bored. He wanted to own things, land, people, a Quidditch team or two, and he wanted power.

The only things that changed were the fact that I met Professor McGonagall every Thursday I should be having Transfiguration and we worked on my Animagus training and the fact that I was on the Slytherin Quidditch team. Actually, I lie; there were a few other changes. I liked boys...a lot, actually. And they liked me...more actually than I liked them. Boys from every year and house looked at me, and Draco gave them death glares, which kept most of them at bay. But let me tell you, it was weird and slightly uncomfortable to have boys that have, in the past, looked at you like you were the Dark Lord himself, to look at you like they want to kiss you. It was really weird. I can tell you though, Draco liked it a lot less than I did. Don't fool yourself. I wasn't in love with Draco, and he wasn't in love with me. I think his logic was that I was his, a sort of beacon to draw more attention to him. He didn't want me, but he didn't want other people to have me more; that is what bothered him about other people looking at me. It was like a weird older brother I had never had...or something like that.

But all these things I weathered, and some I was thankful for. I didn't want to have to fend off every boy in my year and older everyday, and Draco helped me with this. As long as I was his possession, I wasn't anyone else's, and I was okay with that. Because in reality, I wasn't his. I wasn't anyone's; I was my own person and though it didn't look like it on the outside, I didn't care.

I think this bothered my brother, actually. He looked at me with hatred in his eyes one day and pity the next. He never said anything, but I could tell he was torn. Funny thing about Gryffindors, I guess; they never quit. He would never quit on me. In his eyes, I would always be his little sister, and he my older brother. I think it helped him mentally to live. Seriously, if he felt half the pain I did about being sorted into Slytherin, he would have a mental breakdown. If he suppressed half the pain I did, he would probably go mad. But it still didn't stop him from the anger he no doubtedly felt toward Malfoy. It was common knowledge that Draco kept company with Pansy, and it was true. It was true, and Draco hated it. Suggestion of his father, once again. So they were a couple, which bothered Ron. In his eyes, and the eyes of most of the school, I was the concubine of Draco Malfoy, and Pansy Parkinson was the wife...even though they weren't married. They thought this would be what it would be like when we were older.

The whole school knew that he preferred my company over Pansy's, and so did Pansy, which she hated more than anything. But the one thing she hated, correction, two things she hated more than knowing Draco preferred my company to hers (even though we were only talking, nothing else) was knowing she couldn't do anything about it, and not knowing what we were doing all alone in my rooms. I'll tell you the truth, I did nothing to discourage these rumors; both Draco and I thought I would be safer that way. Plus, it helped that I got the satisfaction of casting dirty looks back at Pansy and Millicent.

But life went on. Halloween passed. Soon the first match of the season came, Gryffindor vs. Slytherin. We hadn't played Gryffindor since they beat us in the House Cup my second year, and everyone was cheesed about it. Even I drew up enough emotion to get a little upset by the Gryffindors' constant reminders of our loss to Harry Potter's fantastic snatch. Draco was getting particularly nasty towards the Fantastic Trio and was resorting to using me to get under their skin. I almost decked him after he grabbed my arse in front of them. He didn't do that again, but he did make nasty insinuation about his and my sex lives, which made the blood of my brother (who, to his credit, replaced Angelina Johnson as the third Chaser on Gryffindor; Katie Bell and Alicia Spinnet were seventh years this year) and Harry (who had been voted team captain despite his age) boil outrageously.

Tempers finally boiled over the day of the match...

_

* * *

_

_"Just once, that is all I ask, Ginevra," Draco said in a plaintive voice, looking over at Harry and Ron, who were talking in hushed voices with some other fifth and sixth year Gryffindors._

_"No!" Ginny hissed._

_Draco seemed a bit put out, like a boy who had his favorite toy taken away. Except, in this case, Draco's favorite toy was her, and he used her constantly to annoy and upset Gryffindors, which was sort of a pastime of his. "Don't you know what they are saying about us?" he said in a calm voice. "We might as well; they already think they know. And think how mad they'll get. I can almost see it now..."_

_"You're acting like a seven-year-old, Draco," Ginny said, rolling her eyes. Then he gave her huge puppy dog eyes, and his lip quivered. He looked most un-Draco. "Is that the face you give your mother when your father won't give you something?" Ginny asked in an exasperated voice._

_Draco stopped and smirked. "It works really well, doesn't it?"_

_Ginny looked at him with a raised eyebrow and said, "This one time, and that is all."_

_Draco's smirk turned into a full out wicked smile. "Good."_

_Ginny put her hand up as he leaned closer. "One condition!"_

_Draco hung his head. "What?"_

_"I go with whoever I want to the Yule Ball," she said seriously._

_Draco seemed to think this over for a moment. "No Gryffindors and no Hufflepuffs."_

_"Deal," Ginny said quickly._

_Draco's smile returned, and Ginny put down her bags; she wasn't going to need them for Draco's plan. She saw Draco make eye contact with Harry and sneer. Then he put his arm around her waist and pulled her close to him. "Just act like you're enjoying it," he whispered into her ear before nibbling on it seductively._

_It wasn't that hard to enjoy it; Draco was an expert after all. One hand against the wall and the other pressing her body into his, he kissed her. Ginny put on a mask of pleasure and licked her lips when Draco nibbled her ear. She was giving people a show and knew it; Draco knew it and was relishing in it._

_Not thirty seconds later, Draco's lips were torn from hers, and he was sent reeling into a wall of the halls. Ginny opened her eyes and saw Ron and Harry pounding Draco, a herd of Gryffindors on the outskirts of the fray. Warrington and Montague were immediately in the middle, pulling Ron and Harry off Draco and beating on them expertly. Soon, the other Gryffindors joined and then more Slytherins._

_Finally a teacher came; it was Snape, which wasn't good for the Gryffindors, as they all got detention for a week and Slytherins only got warnings. However, Ron and Harry both got month long detentions with Snape, a special punishment just for them. They were the instigators, even though Draco provoked them. But Snape would never see it that way and neither would McGonagall when they tried to explain their loss of points and detentions._

_"Miss Weasley," Snape said in a cold voice as he was walking away, "I would like to see you in my office in thirty minutes."_

_Ginny walked over to the bruised Draco and frowned, shaking her head, but she didn't say a word. Ron and Harry were looking at her like she was Satan himself at the moment, and a flash of rage bore into her. How dare they judge her, after all they'd done to her!!!_

_Draco walked over to Ginny and put his arm around her waist. "See you tonight," he said coolly to Ron and Harry._

_"Good luck," Ginny added in a voice more icy than Draco's. Then she stood on her toes and brought Draco into a quick but passionate kiss, right in front of them, then walked away, her hand in Draco's and a smirk on her lips._

_"My, my, my, Ginevra," Draco said quietly as they walked away, "Where _did_ you learn to kiss like that?"_

_Ginny smirked. "_ _Germany__."_

_Draco raised an eyebrow but said nothing._

* * *

No, I'm not particularly proud of that moment. Nor much of my life thereafter. I had become what I never wanted to be. I was the puppet and the puppeteer. I was the crew and the captain. I was the hypocrite and the liberator. I was lower than low but above everyone. Outside I was freezing, but inside I was burning. It was painful to say the least, painful and hypocritical. But it was just the beginning.

* * *

º "No one ever does expect the Spanish Inquisition." – This is shamelessly stolen from Monty Python. God, I love Monty Python. Especially John Cleese.


	6. Year Four, Part Two, Tainted

**CHAPTER SIX: Year Four, Part Two, Tainted **

"More dangers have deceived men than forced them."

- Francis Bacon (1561 - 1626)

* * *

We were going to win; I knew it. No, it was nothing like I was "foreseeing" it. It was a gut instinct. A thrill had entered my veins, and I knew the Slytherins would beat the Gryffindors, fair or not. I would play fair though, whether or not my disreputable teammates did. It isn't winning unless I did it the old-fashioned way. That is one of the reasons I suspect I made a bad Slytherin. Have you EVER heard of a Slytherin who doesn't like to cheat? No, I didn't think so.

Soon I was standing on the field, listening to that fool of a referee trying to make sure there would be no cheating, everyone would play fair, blah, blah, blah…

_

* * *

_

_Ginny's eyes were locked with her brother's as he glared at her from the opposite side of the referee. He was upset with her; she could tell, but she also didn't care._

_Madam Hooch threw the Quaffle into the air, and the announcer, a sixth year Ravenclaw named Rhonda Lane, said into the crowd, "And they are off! The Quaffle is picked up by seventh year Gryffindor, Alicia Spinnet. Spinnet to her counterpart, Katie Bell. Bell_ _to Spinnet and Spinnet to Weasley! Oh! That isn't legal!"_

_Derrick had hit Ron with his bat. "I swear! I thought he was the Bludger, Madam Hooch!"_

_"Penalty for Gryffindor!_ _Warrington, keep your players honest!" Madam Hooch said, blowing her whistle._

_The crowd in green cheered as Jonathan Wilkes made his first save of the season. Play resumed, and Wilkes tossed the Quaffle off to Ginny._

_"And Weasley of Slytherin takes the Quaffle, heading towards the goals with no sign of using teamwork. Nice barrel roll, Weasley! Oh, watch that! I can't believe it; she dodges it. This girl moves faster than light, a nasty little surprise for the Gryffindors, I imagine. Still no pass off to her teammates, and oh, watch out, Weasley! No, other Weasley!"_

_Ginny put the Quaffle into her left arm and swung at Ron with her left, looking intent on punching his lights out._

_"I don't believe it! A perfectly executed Transylvanian Tackle! Big brother looks a little uneasy about that, and oh! First score of the game goes to Slytherin as Weasley makes it past Gryffindor seventh year, Austin Jacobs!" Rhonda exclaimed._

_Warrington_ _flew up beside Ginny and said, "Nice job. Try to save some for the rest of us." Then he smacked her hard on the ass and began to fly away._

_Rage burned in Ginny; she shot after him and did a loop so she was in front of him._

_"Ow! And that is a poorly executed Transylvanian Tackle, but it looked intentional to me! Warrington_ _might want to look into not touching his female player there." The announcer laughed._

_Play resumed, and Warrington_ _shot Ginny a dirty look, though the intimidation factor was somewhat lessened by his bloody nose._

_Ginny sped into the Parkinson's Pincer around Katie Bell, who had the Quaffle. Warrington on her left and Montague on her right, she had nowhere to go as she shot towards the goals. Ginny was flying right at her, and at the last second, Montague turned off, and Ginny snatched the Quaffle from Bell's hands._

_"A beautifully modified Parkinson's Pincer, and Hurricane Weasley heads off to the Gryffindor goals again. Not even Gryffindor's Beaters can stop her, and for a second time, neither can Jacobs! Nice try though!" Rhonda commentated._

_Out of the corner of her eye, Ginny saw a Bludger shooting at her head. At the last second, she pulled into a dive and then shot up at the Beater that batted it at her, narrowly missing him and casting him a dangerous glare._

_"Better watch out, Finnigan! Weasley is a fiery one; don't discount her family temperament just because she is in Slytherin!"_

_That did it for Ginny. She flew past the announcer's box and did a close sweep, making sure to glare at the commentating Ravenclaw. Then she joined her teammates on the pitch, continuing the game much in the way it had begun._

_Ginny scored goal after goal, outsmarting and outplaying the Gryffindors until the score was ninety to twenty, Slytherin in the lead. But still, the Snitch would end the game; they weren't up so high that the 150 points wouldn't affect play._

_"And Warrington_ _finally puts his two-knuts in on the scoring boards with a goal for Slytherin, courtesy of Hurricane Weasley! This game is getting pretty long; if the Snitch isn't caught soon, I think I'll just go to bed. Oh, now that isn't legal, Derrick; you can't hit the Keeper with a Bludger! Foul shot for Gryffindor! And what a surprise, Wilkes makes another save. This fourth year is worth his weight in gold, with a seventy percent save rate at the goals," Rhonda continued._

_Ginny was given the Quaffle by Wilkes. Tossing it off to Montague, she headed down the field, dodging a Bludger to the head and swerving around her brother as he tried a Transylvanian Tackle once again that match. Warrington threw her the Quaffle, and a spark of gold caught her eye._

_It was the Snitch, floating about thirty feet above her. She looked around and saw Harry was headed straight for it, but Malfoy was a hundred yards or so behind him. Ginny shot after it; it hadn't moved yet. Higher and higher she climbed, Harry gaining on her fast with his superior broom. Reaching out as far as she could, she grasped the tiny thing, clamping down on it with her adrenaline pumped fingers._

_A roar of boos was heard as she caught it, smiling at Harry through a few strands of loose hair. He frowned at her, and she raised an eyebrow. "All's fair, Harry, all's fair."_

_"SNITCHNIP!_ _SNITCHNIP!" Rhonda Lane_ _called furiously. "What a dirty, low down, filthy tactic! Foul shot! FOUL SHOT!"_

_Madam Hooch came up to her and said, "The Snitch, Weasley!"_

_Ginny smiled once more at Harry and gave the glittering ball to Madam Hooch. Madam Hooch frowned and blew her whistle. "Two foul shots for Gryffindor, captain selection!"_

_Then she let the Snitch go, and it zoomed off into the night. Wilkes saved the first shot by Spinnet but not the second. The score was one hundred to thirty, still with Slytherin in the lead._

_After a shot saved by the Gryffindor Keeper, Ginny snatched the Quaffle as he tried to throw it to Spinnet and did a three-sixty, throwing it into the bottom left goal of the Gryffindor posts._

_"And the score is 140 to forty," said Rhonda about fifteen minutes later. "The Gryffindor Chasers look about shot, and their Beaters haven't hit anyone in a good thirty minutes. It looks like the Gryffindors are running out of gas. The only people who look awake and ready to be here are Hurricane Weasley and our two Seekers._

_"Oh, no!_ _Watch out, Weasley! Oh! That can't be legal! Someone get a medic; she is down for the count."_

_Ginny saw darkness, but she heard someone, actually, two people. It was foggy, like trying to hear through a door or wall, but it was there._

_"Get away from her, Potter; it was your Beaters that did this!" It was Malfoy; she was sure of it. "A Dopplebeater Defense to the head! It could have killed her!"_

_"Look, Malfoy, I didn't tell them to do it!" she heard Harry say as the voices grew lower._

_"Boys, let Madam Pomfrey look at her!" the voice of Madam Hooch sounded. Then Ginny was lost. The blanket of darkness covered her completely, and she had no memory after that._

_Several hours later, Ginny began to wake. It was quiet wherever she was, quiet and warm, different from the dungeons. She heard the rustle of curtains and tried to open her eyes, but it was no use._

_"Time to go, Draco," the quiet voice of her Head of House, Snape, said. "She'll wake up tomorrow."_

_"Just a few more minutes, Professor," the hard, but now tired voice of Draco said into the darkness._

_She heard Snape sigh. "Madam Pomfrey says you can visit her when the students are at Hogsmeade tomorrow if you want."_

_"Potter's friends will be in here," Draco sneered. "Probably wanting a glimpse at their team's handiwork as they check up on the Boy Hero."_

_It sounded as though Snape was taking Draco and leading him out of the room because their voices died. Cold hands touched her face, and the "hmm" and "hum" of Madam Pomfrey reached her ears. Then they left, and it was as if the mist had lifted. The curtain whispered shut, and Ginny's eyes flicked open. There was a candle by her bedside with a letter by it. She frowned and opened it._

Ginevra -

In case I'm not there when you wake up, I wanted you to know what happened and not have to hear the lies Potter will no-doubtedly tell. Last night you were hit by a Dopplebeater Defense and knocked out. I heard your scream and turned around, giving Potter just enough time to reach the Snitch and win. Damn it, we were so close! We can only hope they lose to Ravenclaw or something. You won our house thirty points, however; that is good. I hope you don't have to stay in there with idiot Boy Wonder too long; they told me I had to leave.

See you tomorrow, I hope.

- Draco

_Ginny sighed and closed the letter, leaning back in her bed. Almost immediately, she heard the door open and close. She closed her eyes and pretended to sleep. She heard the curtain beside her open and close softly and low voices._

_"Is she okay?" she heard Ron ask._

_"Madam Pomfrey says she'll live, but it is hard to tell when she'll wake up," Harry responded quietly._

_"That is good news," Hermione said softly._

HOW THE HELL DID THEY GET IN HERE?!? _Ginny screamed mentally. No one could get past Madam Pomfrey...unless they were invisible._

_"Can I see her?" Ron asked. "I feel terrible. I told them to distract her, not kill her. Finnigan should know better."_

_"Yes, he should have," Harry said. "And go ahead; she's asleep."_

_Her curtain opened, and Ginny felt someone move to her bedside and sit on the edge of her bed. Ron sighed and took her exposed hand. "I'm sorry, Gin. I know you don't love me anymore, but believe me when I say I'll never give up on you. I just want to take care of you. I still love you, Gin. Mum still loves you, and so does everyone else. I want you to know you are still a Weasley, even if you were put in Slytherin. It was an awful mistake, Gin; I know it."_

_He sighed again and let go of her hand. Ginny would have cried if he hadn't said it! He had to go that far! He still didn't get that it was what she was. She was a Slytherin. She was a Slytherin a thousand times over, and she didn't even have the will or desire to change anymore._

_A tear fell on her bare hand, and then he left. The curtain shut behind him, and Ginny shut her heart to him. She wouldn't open it again for a long time._

_Hermione must have seen Ron's tears because she gasped, and through the shadows, Ginny saw her embrace him tightly. "It is okay, Ron," she said. "She can take care of herself."_

_"But -"_

_"Shh, Madam Pomfrey will hear you," Harry said quietly. "You two should probably go. Leave the cloak, and use the secret entrance to the common room though the painting over there."_

_"Okay, Harry," Hermione said. "We will see you Sunday. Tomorrow, Ron and I are going to Hogsmeade."_

_"Good, don't stay behind because of me; I'll be in here a day or so more," Harry said. "Bye!"_

_"Bye."_

_"See you."_

_Then a creaking sound was heard, and Harry sighed and sat up. As soon as Ginny saw his shadow stand, she closed her eyes and pretended to sleep. It turned out this was a good idea because her curtains opened again and Harry sat on her bed._

_Ginny cursed mentally. _You chose a real popular bed, didn't you, Gin? _She tried to steady her breathing and wished she was wearing any one of her rings, with perhaps the exception of Hina's. But all were in her room, safe and sound._

_Then a tentative hand brushed her cheek. It was warm and gentle, but shy. Ginny wished she could stop pretending, but something inside stopped her. She didn't know why, but she felt a warmth in her chest. No raging inferno, no screaming winds of ice, just soothing and natural warmth._

_The hand cupped her cheek, and the thumb caressed her lips lightly. Ginny's stomach grew tight, and she strained to keep her breathing normal. Hot breath reached her cheek and eyelids and then a warm sensation on her lips. Harry Potter was kissing her! He pulled back after a few moments and softly caressed her cheek again._

_He never said a word, not a single word, but in the silence, she could feel her heart beat with his, and she knew. But she didn't quite know what yet._

_The bed lifted, and the curtains closed. She had a lot of thinking to do._

* * *

All I have to say about that is HOW COULD HE! WHAT THE _HELL_ WAS HE THINKING? I WAS FREE! FREE OF HIM, OF THAT STUPID SCHOOLGIRL CRUSH, AND HE THOUGHT HE COULD JUST KISS ME AND WAKE ME UP LIKE SLEEPING BEAUTY FROM THE CURSE? He made me want to SCREAM!

Oh, make no mistake, he would pay for that; he would pay for it for a long time. I don't even know how to express my rage to you. I had no outlet; I had nothing to release my frustrations on. They were building higher and higher, and nothing would stop them until they were drained away. I hated that pain, and I hated him for putting it in me.

There were only two things to do: release the pain or bury it. I'd been burying pain since before I could understand why or how; I wanted a way to release it now. I wanted to make him so angry he ripped his hair out. I wanted to make him so angry his blood boiled and his eyes burned. I was going to make him jealous...but it would have to wait...it would have to stay buried for a while. But thankfully not too long.

I had a plan, a wonderful plan that would ensure I hurt him as much as he hurt me. All I had to do was wait until the Yule Ball...

_

* * *

_

_Green._ _That was the color of her robes. Once again she had made a dress of green. But this time it was cut Mandarin style and had silver designs all over the whole thing. It had taken her a while to decide how far she wanted the slits to go, but she settled on a little over her knees as a safe spot. She had put her hair in a tight bun at the nape of her neck with sterling silver chopsticks holding it back. Her eyes were made to look like green streaks in a pale light, dotted with freckles. Her eyes were lengthened because of the makeup pattern, and her eyelashes were encrusted with little silver dots. On her bare shoulders, she sprinkled glitter as well as on her green eye makeup. She painted her lips ruby red, and she wore green strapped shoes, though no one could see as her dress touched the ground. She was beautiful. A deadly flower, she liked to think. The Deadly Nightshade was going to poison Harry Potter. She would steal his heart and rip it out of his chest._

_Her door opened, and Draco walked in. She finished darkening her green eye shadow, and Draco said, "Damn, I was hoping you'd need help with your dress."_

_Ginny stood up and smiled at his dress robes. They were much better than last year's, more casual and no lace._

_His reaction to her dress was far better than satisfactory. "You can't wear that," he said sharply._

_"Oh, I can, and I will," she said coldly._

_"Then you can't go with Warrington," Draco said forcefully. "I'll dump Pansy and go with you."_

_Ginny shook her head and said, "No. I told you I'd get my revenge on him, and I will, Draco. You aren't my father."_

_"But I am your protector."_

_Ginny almost faltered, but she gained ground by saying, "I can take care of myself, as you've seen. Besides, I have a plan."_

_"I know...fine. Fine. But if you get in trouble, I won't be able to protect you. You'll be on your own," Draco conceded._

_Ginny smiled and said, "Now Mr. Malfoy, won't you lead me downstairs?"_

_Draco_ _smirked and said, "Of course."_

_He took her arm in his and led her down to the common room. Ginny was happy to see she caused even more of a sensation than the year before. Warrington_ _looked especially smitten. She couldn't believe it had been so easy to get him to ask her to the Yule Ball. All she had to do was wear Nefertiti and Hina's rings to three practices, and he was jelly in her hands. The only thing she had worried about was having the urge to sleep with him when she wore them. To her relief, she didn't. Apparently the urges lessened when you weren't a virgin._

_It took a good thirty seconds for Warrington_ _to gain his composure, but to his credit, he did look handsome, in a dark, muscle-bound way. Ginny smiled and accepted his arm, looking up at him through her eyelashes. He looked as if he was having a hard time controlling himself, and she smirked as his other hand twitched violently at his side._

_Pansy was smiling as Draco took her arm, smiling like she had won something by being Draco's date. _Oh, little does she know..._Ginny thought. Ginny smiled back at her as Warrington_ _pulled her towards his friends, eager to show off Draco's concubine._

_Ginny put on a fake smile as Warrington_ _led her through the people crowding the entranceway to the Great Hall. She saw looks of surprise and some of disgust. She saw looks of pity and looks of sorrow. But she was only looking for one look. One look, and he was there. He appeared to be alone, but he was standing near Seamus Finnigan and Lavender Brown._

_Ginny caught his eye and held it. She sat between Warrington_ _and Draco, with the rest of the Quidditch team and their dates. Still keeping eye contact with him, she licked her lips and leaned over to Warrington, whispered something in it and nibbled gently on his earlobe. Warrington's jaw dropped, and Harry went red. Merlin, she was loving this!_

_Dumbledore called for the attention of the hall and made a few short announcements. Everyone ordered their food, but Ginny opted for a salad, knowing she would have to keep her stomach and all its contents firmly inside for what was going to happen later. Warrington_ _seemed only vaguely interested in what was being served and more anxious for the Yule Ball to end. With good reason, too; Ginny had given him every right to believe he was going to sleep with her after the dance. The effects of Hina's ring were doing their job well on him._

_"I request that the prefects and house Quidditch captains please begin the dance," Dumbledore said above the crowd._

_Warrington practically dragged her to the floor, wanting the chance to show Ginny off again without having to worry about Draco casting dark looks in his direction. Holding her far closer than necessary, he turned her deftly around the ballroom. All Ginny cared about was her revenge on Harry._

_Soon other students joined the prefects and captains on the floor, and Warrington_ _pulled her over to the edge of the floor and said, "Let's go."_

_"What is the hurry, Carl?" she asked innocently._

_"You know damn well, you whore," he spat. "You've held me on edge all night; it is time to go."_

_Ginny frowned. "Look, Warrington, I've got an agenda of my own. I don't like you, don't flatter yourself, but you'll get your payment; don't worry about that. But I'm not quite done yet here, so wait a little while. Besides, I think you'll like my game a lot more if I tell you your role."_

_Warrington_ _seemed to think this over for a minute. He had known Ginny hadn't gone to the dance with him because she liked him; quite the opposite, she hated him, and he knew it. He had been surprised when he asked her to go with him, but even more surprised when she accepted. "Fine. What is your game, Weasley?"_

_Ginny smirked. "Someone has caused me a great deal of pain, Warrington, and I'm not going to let it go. Let's just say, you'll go with the flow and act like you have no idea what is happening, and I'm going go give you the best blow job you've ever had."_

_"Two questions," he said suspiciously. "Who?"_

_"Why, Harry Potter; who else?" she said with a light laugh._

_"How the hell did you get so cold? You're only fourteen-fucking-years-old, and you look and act like you're my age, or older."_

_Damn, he was smarter than she thought. She frowned at him. "Don't ask questions you're not prepared to hear the answer to, Warrington."_

_He eyed her suspiciously then said, "I'll play your game, Weasley, but as my payment, I require the price to be higher. One month of you serving me in any way I please."_

_"Done," Ginny said simply. He was falling right into her trap. "Now all you have to do is play along, Warrington. Come on now; I've got a heart to break."_

_He smirked. "You are one cold bitch, you know that?"_

_Ginny smiled as she headed towards where Harry and the rest of the Gryffindors were sitting, right next to the exit to the gardens. "You're not so bad yourself, Warrington."_

_Warrington put his hand around her waist, and Ginny caught Harry's eye briefly as Warrington_ _led her out. It didn't take long. As Ginny was walking out the door, she saw, out of the corner of her eye, Harry stand up, put his drink down, and walk out the door behind them._

_She led Warrington_ _down the path a bit, not too far off the main way, but enough so Harry would have to look for them. Soon she came to a bench and looked at Warrington. His eyes were alight with anticipation. "Sit," she said._

_He did, putting his arms over the back of the bench. She smiled coldly down on him and hitched her skirt up so the slits were at her hips, then put her knees on the outside of his slim waist. He groaned as she sat down lightly on his lap. Looking him in the eye, she ground against his hips slightly before pressing her chest to his. He moaned again, and she kissed him hard, her tongue parting his lips. She explored his mouth deftly, all the while listening for the crunching gravel that would signal Harry's approach._

_Warrington_ _grabbed her hips and ground her harder against his. Ginny bent her head and went to work on his neck, kissing and licking, biting and blowing, hoping Harry would show soon so she didn't lose what little dinner she'd eaten._

_As Warrington_ _placed his hands on her breasts, the crunch of gravel sounded, and Ginny smiled into Warrington's neck. She raised her head to kiss his lips, the way she had pictured._

_But then something happened she didn't expect. Warrington flipped her quickly onto her back, pinning her under the bench. She squealed in surprise, and Warrington_ _chuckled deep in his throat as he pulled the chopsticks out of her hair and buried his face in her long auburn locks._

_And then he was off her. He was off her and on the ground being pounded into oblivion by Harry Potter, her "knight in shining armor." A sickening pop was heard, and Ginny suspected Warrington's nose was broken. The odd thing was Warrington_ _wasn't fighting, and Harry wasn't holding back._

_Finally, Ginny couldn't take it anymore and yelled, "Harry! Stop! You'll kill him!"_

_Two more punches, and he stopped. Harry was breathing hard, and his robes were dirty, but there was no blood on him Ginny could see. He stood and turned around, facing Ginny with angry green eyes. Ginny knew she looked the picture of the almost ravished damsel in distress with the top two buttons on her dress undone, her hair loose from its bonds, and her dress slightly wrinkled from her activities._

_Harry wiped his face with the back of his sleeve and stared hard at her. She glared at him and bent down to check on Warrington. She took his pulse and wiped the blood off her fingers on the front of his robes. "Are you quite finished?" she said coldly. "I mean, a few more minutes, and he'd be dead. What are you doing here, Harry?"_

_Harry's jaw worked up and down for a minute._

_"What? You expected me to thank you? I think you presume a bit much. What was your theory? The Slytherins brainwashed me? Hmm, that is one I've not heard in a while. Or did you think I was being blackmailed? Either way, they are truly original ideas."_

_Harry frowned at this; she could tell she worked him up a bit. "Well, I expect a little gratitude, Ginny. I mean, he would have raped you."_

_Ginny snorted. "And what makes you think that? What makes you think I wasn't enjoying it? What makes you think it wasn't what I wanted? I don't need a protector, Harry. I already have one."_

_"What? Malfoy! You think he gives a damn about you? Do you even know what people say about you? Do you even care?" he sputtered._

_"Of course I know. Believe me, it helps more than hurts me. I wouldn't be here with Warrington_ _if Draco didn't know about it."_

_Ginny pulled out her wand and said, "_OBLIVIATE!_" while pointing her wand at Warrington._

_"So now he controls your life?" Harry said angrily. "Doesn't that bother you?"_

_"Don't flatter yourself! He does no such thing. I'm sure you'd love to think he does, but sorry, no. The real question, Harry, is what you are doing here."_

_Harry was silent._

_"What, no answer? Did you figure yourself my knight in shining armor? Did you think you'd come and protect me from the snake in Salazar's lair? Where were you when I died, Harry, or did you miss that part?" she questioned._

_Harry's face went blank. It was then that Ginny noticed she was an unhealthy distance from him, only a few inches. "You were always alive to me, Ginny," he said quietly, his hot breath on her face._

_Ginny backed up, her jaw trembling. Harry advanced on her, taking slow steps in her direction. Ginny tried to steel herself, but she couldn't. She faltered and shook as she backed away. "Don't you dare, Harry Potter! Don't you dare!"_

_"Dare what?" he said calmly. _How did he get so warm? Where did that look in his eyes come from?_ she asked herself._

_Ginny hit a tree, unable to go further. "Don't you DARE fall in love with me, Harry Potter! I will hate you forever!"_

_His eyes glinted as he put one hand on the trunk of the tree and leaned closer to her. She wasn't prepared for this; she wasn't ready. Ginny trembled as his breath hit her harder and hotter._

_Then she darted under his arm and turned to run but ran into something quite solid. Actually someone. She looked up and sighed in relief when she saw it was Draco. She grabbed onto his robes and looked pleadingly into his eyes. He nodded and said, "Now doesn't this look cozy? What exactly have you done now, Potter?"_

_Harry growled, "Nothing worse than you've already done, Malfoy."_

_"Nothing worse than _I've_ done? Now I never remember beating Warrington into a bloody pulp and then trying to rape Ginevra. I wonder where I find time to do all these things?"_

_"Rape Ginny? I would never do that, you bastard!" Harry said angrily. "You are the one that has tainted her mind with your Slytherin ways. Leave her be, you snake!"_

_Draco put a hand on Ginny's shoulder. "I'm shocked, Potter, shocked that you would accuse me of this. I have no idea what you are talking about, and I'm sure neither does Ginevra. But really, is this the time? Ginevra seems rattled a bit by you; I think she should go inside where it is warm. Come now, Ginevra."_

_He put an arm around Ginny's shoulder and walked out of the gardens. Ginny heard Harry yell, and the tree she had been pinned against shook. Ginny grabbed Draco's robes desperately as she shivered._

_Draco sighed and said, "I did try to warn you, Ginevra..."_

_She looked into his eyes and saw they did hold some measure of pity for her. "He implied he loves me, Draco."_

_Draco looked at her hard and nodded his head. "I know. He always has, you know?"_

_Ginny shook her head into his chest and tried to subside her shaking. He led her to her rooms and sat her down in her bed. "Will you be okay?"_

_Ginny nodded her head slightly. Draco nodded his as well and closed the door behind him. As soon as his footsteps died, Ginny riffled through her rings, found Nysilia's and thrust it on, determined not to feel. Damn morals to hell; she was in pain._

* * *

"Damn morals to hell, she was in pain," I quote. Weak. It was weak; that is what it was. That is why I'm in Slytherin; I'm fecking weak. I stayed like that for days under the guise of being asleep.

Thankfully, it was Christmas holiday, and no one bothered me. My whole house, with the exception of me, was gone that break. Even Draco had left a letter saying he had to leave because his family was staying on their yacht in the south of France for the holidays. He apologized profusely, but I was okay with it. I needed to think...a lot.

It was four days into break when someone found me. Just my luck, it was Snape. I suppose they got worried I had killed myself or something. I mean, I hadn't eaten in days, and no one had seen me. Nysilia's ring gave me enough sustenance to live, but I didn't quite have the will to take it off. I was like Sleeping Beauty, under the spell of the wicked witch to sleep forever. But no wicked witch except me had put me under that spell.

So they put me in the infirmary, not knowing what was wrong with me. There were times when I was half awake and heard voices, and there were times when I just heard voices. There were points when all I wanted was to take off the ring and face the pain I would receive when its numbing effect left, and there were times when all I wanted to do was soak in the dull sensation.

I occasionally felt the magic flowing over me, like someone had hit me with a spell that had no effect. I think Nysilia's ring protected me from more than feeling things, but magic spells as well. I actually think that was its actual purpose. One day I heard the familiar voice of Harry. He was apologizing; he was sorry. He told me he was hurting now; he wasn't happy with himself, and he'd leave me alone if only I'd wake up. He said he missed me.

I hated him. What gave him the right to say those things to me? What gave him the right to care about me? The only person I had let care about me was Draco, and even that was a distorted version of love, distorted by Slytherin politics and policies. Draco, I could deal with because it wasn't real love; it wasn't real emotion. It was feigned to protect us both; Draco from his father's torture forms and me from the other Slytherins.

I finally gained enough will to take the ring off one day, the day of Christmas...

_

* * *

_

_Ginny woke and sat in her bed. She moved Nysilia's ring to her other finger and got out of bed. Almost immediately she was assaulted by Madam Pomfrey and Headmaster Dumbledore._

_"Miss Weasley!" Madam Pomfrey said anxiously. "You're awake! Oh, thank Merlin!"_

_"How are you feeling, Miss Weasley?" Dumbledore asked her, his eyes doing the piercing thing they did so well. But ice was hard to pierce through, and her soul was made of it._

_"Angry," she answered simply. "And dirty. If you'll excuse me, I think I'll go bathe."_

* * *

Yeah, that would shake them quite fast. And it did. Though I did get a rather disturbing note from Dumbledore when I entered my rooms, saying to meet him in his office when I was ready.

I did, and he, once again, asked if I wanted to tell him anything. I said, once again, that I'd love to, but it wasn't a possibility. He didn't want to accept this, but he had no choice. I went back to my common room and began reading _Sense and Sensibility_ for the thousandth time. What can I say? I love that book.

I didn't go to the Christmas Feast, and I didn't leave the common rooms, though I did have an interesting conversation with Snape...

_

* * *

_

_Ginny was sitting in front of the fires of the Slytherin common room, reading _ Wuthering Heights_ and drinking hot coffee. She was relaxed when she was alone, when she was living her books like this. It was as if she wasn't part of this world anymore, but another; another world that was totally accepting, unwavering it its consistency. It was safe for her to feel in that world; it was safe for her to love, and it was safe for her to cry. It was safe because it wasn't her; it was someone else. Right now she was Catherine, and she was on the wild moors with Heathcliff. She was free and in love, she was young and in love, she was Catherine and in love._

_"Miss Weasley," a cold voice said, breaking her fragile world of make-believe. She looked up and saw Snape. "On request of Dumbledore, I am here to inquire after your well being."_

_She raised an eyebrow and said, "As you can see, I'm quite alive and quite well."_

_He looked at her in an odd way, as though he was trying to decide whether or not to care. Finally, he took a seat across from her and said, "_ Wuthering Heights_, it is one of my favorites, even though it is based on Muggles."_

_"Emily Bronte thought all people were alike, wizard and Muggle, so she wrote about both," Ginny answered, putting the book down._

_"Emily Bronte was also mad," Snape countered._

_"No one is perfect," Ginny replied._

_"And no one is sane, or so they say," Snape snorted._

_"No one in her book is," Ginny said._

_"Least of all Heathcliff," Snape retorted._

_"Heathcliff was crazy in love. Catherine was just crazy."_

_Snape let out a sort of short laugh that reminded her of Sirius, and she wondered what he would think about the comparison._

_"I think it was beautiful," Ginny continued._

_"Beautiful?"_

_"Their pain. They shared it, but both were too caught up to realize what they inflicted on each other. It is like what Helmholtz was saying in _Brave New World;_ there can be no beauty without first feeling pain. True beauty is born of suffering."_

_"But Helmholtz had a grasp of what was going on in the world. Catherine and Heathcliff were trapped in themselves, in that little span of moor that connected Thrushcross Grange and Wuthering Heights. They couldn't see around them enough to know love."_

_"You don't have to see things to know love," Ginny argued, completely forgetting this was a teacher she was talking to. "In a way, Heathcliff knew more about love and beauty than Helmholtz ever would because he had loved and lost."_

_"So what you're saying is, 'it is better than to loved and lost, than never to have loved at all'?"_

_"If you want to interpret Shakespeare like that, yes, if you want to know beauty," she replied._

_"But if you want to know love?"_

_"I don't believe in love."_

_"But you believe in beauty? I thought they came hand in hand."_

_"No. Love and beauty level each other. You can have one without the other; it just doesn't mean anything."_

_"How do you figure?" he asked._

_"Hypothetically speaking, if you are in love with someone, you are in love with the beauty they are; their soul, their mind, their body. But since there is no love, no love can exist between two people that are bonded so; you can never truly see their beauty. But you can see their beauty without being in love with them._

_"For example," she said, holding her hand up as Snape was going to interject, "I see the beauty of Draco, but I am not in love with him. I see how he desperately tries to escape his father but, at the same time, knows he never will. I see the beauty which is the hypocritical life he lives. Even now he tries to escape what he wants, what he's been told he wants and needs from the time he was born. I see his beauty, but I don't love him._

_"Another example, and you won't like this one, I see the beauty of Sirius Black. A prisoner of James' shadow, a prisoner of his own mind for years, a prisoner of Azkaban at the same time, now a prisoner of his own guilt. I see the beauty of the life he lives, the pain in knowing that although he is free of one prison, he unwittingly is thrown into another. I see the beauty, but I don't love him."_

_He was silent for a while, and then he said, "You should never have been put in this house."_

_Ginny shook her head. "No, probably not. But what is done is done. What I am is what I am."_

_"But what you have become..." he began, looking into her eyes with a tint of sorrow. "You are so young; you sound so old."_

_"I've been told that before," Ginny said, looking away._

_"You deserved something better; you deserved happiness," he said._

_"I will be happy one day," she said, staring into the fire._

_"When?"_

_"When Tom is dead. When I leave school. When I complete my assignment. When I escape my prison. When I am free. When I am a prisoner again. Someday," she said. "Don't trouble yourself with me, I'm strong, I'll survive, I'll endure."_

_Snape looked her in the eye again. "I'm sorry."_

_"Me, too...sometimes," she said, standing and holding her book in her hand. "But what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. I'll go to bed now; it is getting late."_

_"Goodnight, Miss Weasley," Snape said, walking out of the common room and to his office, she assumed._

* * *

I like to think I proved something that day, proved to Snape I wasn't weak. Merlin! I wanted to prove my worth! I wanted to prove myself! But it couldn't be then. Later, when I was something.

The holidays ended, like all good things must, and I met up with an emotionally and somewhat mentally unstable Draco. He was always like that when he'd been around his father too much, as though he'd never known kindness. He'd act like his father for a while; then eventually he'd snap out of it and become himself. He was awful like that, awful and miserable...and insufferable.

School continued, and Hufflepuff lost abysmally to us and Gryffindor. School continued, and life continued. Not much changed after the holidays. My classes were going fine; I had once again got top marks in my year. I was going through a little plateau in my Animagus training, but McGonagall said everything was ahead of schedule if I wanted to become one before leaving school. I got the feeling she didn't like me much, but what was to be expected? Her Gryffindor sense of fair play, however, prevented her from doing anything out of line. All I have to say is if I was a Gryffindor studying under Snape, things would have been much different.

Winter melted into spring, and my heart froze in return. A sense of contentment would have settled on the castle had the final tests been a little further away, but they looked much closer this side of Easter holidays. The only thing I was amazed about was that Harry the Wonder Boy had yet to get in a huge bout of trouble. It seemed every year, without fail, he and his friends would make some harrowing escape or defeat Voldemort in some terrible battle. But I suppose there is, in fact, rest for the evil because there were only three weeks left of school and no sign of Tom.

What disturbed me more was the way people looked at me now. Word had got out (Merlin knows how) that Harry tried to "woo" me after the ball, beat up Warrington, and I'd left with Draco. There were many stories about how this happened, and I haven't heard one that is accurate yet. But there is just something in a broken man's eyes that make you look twice...

_

* * *

_

_"Ginevra," Draco said quietly, "the least you could have done was break his heart solidly, so we wouldn't have to endure this every day. He is lingering; you should have nipped it in the bud."_

_Ginny rolled her eyes and said, "Just kiss me and give him a dirty look; that is all I know how to do. I've never broken a person before, Draco. What would you suggest?"_

_"I've never broken a person before either; ask my father," he said, bored. But he did reach over and kiss her and give the heartbroken Harry a superior look before returning to his dinner._

_Harry had been giving her puppy dog eyes every time he'd seen her for the last few months, and Ginny was tired of it. But he stayed away from her; at least in reality, he did. He haunted her dreams though; he haunted her steps. He was an unshakable shadow of guilt, and Ginny ran from him as if the whips of the Furies themselves were at her heels. Truthfully, she didn't want to hurt him that way; she just wanted him to move on. _She_ just wanted to move on._

_Ginny licked her lips and looked up at the head table, trying to read the expression of Dumbledore. He grew more tired looking everyday, as if a heavy burden was weighing down on him. Ginny had a feeling he knew something no one else did, something about Tom. There was war brewing; Ginny could feel it. Everyday she lived, it felt closer. But still not so close. She would live to see it, that was for sure, but what side she would be on and if she would survive were two totally different questions._

_She had given a lot of thought to which side she supported, and every time it ended with Dumbledore. He was right, Tom was wrong and that was that. Ginny hated Tom with every fiber of her being and would do anything to see him dead...anything, even if it meant her death._

_Ginny's ears perked up as she listened to Dumbledore announce the House Cup. "Hufflepuff ended the year with a total of 117 points, following closely behind Ravenclaw at 135. However, for the thirteenth time in school history, a tie-breaker is needed for the House Cup, with Gryffindor and Slytherin both tied at 185 points."_

_And then there were bells. They rang in Ginny's head like thunder in the midnight sky. This wasn't a good idea. This wasn't a good plan. This wouldn't be a good thing, not at all. Ginny couldn't keep this to herself, but she needed to be sure._

_Stealthily, Ginny made her way to the exit, amazed no one was going to catch her. She raced to the bathrooms, thinking it would be a fine excuse if someone found her. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out Nysilia and Morgana's rings. Ginny hesitated for a moment, not wanting to relive the terror. Eventually her conscience won, and she shoved the rings on her finger. Before she reached the bathrooms, she was assaulted with visions. They flew so fast she could barely make them out. Ginny collapsed on the hard stone floor and slid into a sitting position against the chilled walls._

_Her eyes unfocused and rolled to the back of her head; she had been right...Tom was here, on the campus...but not._

_"Miss Weasley?" a sharp voice said, jolting her out of reality. "Miss Weasley," it said again, more urgently._

_Ginny's eyes focused momentarily and saw it was Snape. She could trust him. She grabbed onto his robes weakly and opened her mouth to speak, but she couldn't find the words. "Traitor," she croaked. "In Hogwarts...don't...not Harry...death in the castle...betrayal...in the castle...warn Dumble...dore."_

_"What are you babbling about?" he said sharply. "Who is the traitor? What about Potter?"_

_"Dark...don't...not Harry...trust...must tell Dumbledore...traitor," she mumbled. The visions came back, stronger this time; she could smell the blood now; it was awful. She couldn't take the rings off while Snape was here though. This was her punishment for doing the right thing, and she would accept it._

_"Dumbledore..." she said, letting darkness claim her._

_Hours later, Ginny woke in the infirmary. Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey were immediately at her side. Ginny wished they would leave. She could feel the future weighing down on her; she felt compressed and uncomfortable._

_"Miss Weasley?" Dumbledore said, his eyes full of concern._

_"What have you done?" Ginny asked fearfully. She had read it in _Hogwarts, A History_. When there was a tie in the house competition, there was a type of scavenger hunt to see who the winner was. Teachers hid the trophy in some part of the school and patrolled the secret passages, keeping watch over the students to be sure fair play was observed. He wouldn't have sent them out there, would he? "They...you didn't...let him go? Did you?"_

_"What have you seen, Ginny?"_

_"You sent them out there; you should have seen this! Headmaster, how could you?" she shrieked._

_"You don't have to worry. Professor Allen is watching over Harry; nothing will harm him. Professor Allen is a competent DADA teacher; you have no need to worry," Dumbledore said calmly._

_"I DON'T HAVE TO WORRY! I have every right to worry. That isn't one of your supporters, Headmaster; that is a Death Eater!" she said, her body tensing in anger. Ginny's ring hand began to shake and spasm. It was trying to rip her from the room or something. She grabbed it quickly and said, "She's going to kill him, Headmaster. If you don't find him, she'll corner him. I can -" As she was about to continue, another seizure of visions hit her, and she sank into the bed. Breathing heavily, she looked into the eyes of the Headmaster. "Please believe me; go."_

* * *

He went. I was stuck in that stupid infirmary, waiting for those stupid visions. I eventually gave up and took the rings off as I waited. I learned that the five representatives in the hunt from Slytherin were Draco, Warrington, Derrick, Blaise Zabini, and a seventh year prefect, Theresa Unmacht. The Gryffindors out were, of course, Harry, Hermione, and Ron – the Dream Team – with a seventh year, Alicia Spinnet, and a sixth year, Johannes Battalion, a prefect.

I take great pride in the fact that I stayed perfectly calm the whole time...well, most of the time. It was like I had a whole bunch of itching powder in my pants. I even tried to sneak out of the room a couple of times. Damn, Madam Pomfrey is fast. You wouldn't think it to look at her, but she has mad skill.

It wasn't till later I learned what really happened...

_

* * *

_

_Ginny was awake still, her Dreamless Sleep Draught untouched on her nightstand. How could she sleep when that manic teacher was out there and so much excitement was going on? How could Madame Pomfrey handle it? It was around midnight when the doors of the infirmary opened. Dumbledore walked in, haggard and weary; a few smudges of dirt on his normally immaculate robes and a dull quality to his eyes suggested there had been a great misfortune since the last time she'd seen him._

_"Headmaster?" Ginny asked weakly, her eyes wide with anticipation._

_"Would you please come with me, Miss Weasley? There are a few things we need to talk to you about."_

We?_ Ginny said to herself. But she got up anyway and followed the headmaster's weary steps to his office. It seemed like the longest walk she'd ever taken, a Green Mile of sorts. She climbed the stairs behind him and entered his office for the fourth time in her life. Severus Snape was there, as was Sirius Black (both of them looked like they wouldn't complain if asked to duel to the death with the other), Minerva McGonagall, and Harry Potter._

_Ginny froze. She didn't want to be there, and she knew it. _Oh, Merlin, help me,_ she said quietly. But it wasn't Merlin that answered._

Put on my ring, Ginevra. Put my ring and Nysilia's ring on your left thumb_, the ethereal and slow speech of Morgana le Fay said into her head. And Virginia did; no one refused a command from that woman. Ginny felt a tingle of power, a feeling she'd never got from that ring before._

_"Miss Weasley, I'm sure you'd like to hear what happened this evening -" Dumbledore began._

_"- but you already know, don't you?" Snape said coolly, piercing her with his intense black stare._

_Ginny didn't answer._

_Harry was looking at her now, the lost puppy dog eyes gone and calmly inquisitive ones in their place. She hated his eyes. She hated everything about him, but she especially hated his eyes._

_"Let me rephrase that," Sirius Black said. "We want you to tell us what you know, what is going on with you. We want the truth."_

_A muscle in Ginny's eye twitched. _NO_ one spoke to _HER _like that. "I don't have to tell you anything!" she spat, glaring defiantly up at them as she rose from her seat._

_A sad expression crossed Dumbledore's face. "Unfortunately, Miss Weasley, there are ways of changing that." He gestured to Snape, who had produced a vial with a clear liquid in it. "We know you have some power, and we would like to help you with it. There are places you can go, people you can learn from. Your accuracy is stunning in your predictions. There hasn't been an oracle of your magnitude in centuries, not since Morgana le Fay sat in Delphi. We think, with the right training, you could sit in her same spot as the Oracle of Delphi, the same spot Apollo sat. We only want to help you; you must understand. But we can't help you if we don't know the truth."_

_Ginny looked at the faces of everyone in the room. Each of them expressed some amount of sorrow, Harry's most of all. Ginny would not give in though. Ensured by the rings she wore, she took a deep breath and said, "I refuse."_

_Quicker than she thought he could move, Snape did a simple spell, and Ginny opened her mouth just long enough for him to pour the Veritaserum down her throat. She coughed and sputtered for a moment, and then her mind began to float away. Like a friendly ray of light on a cloudy day, a voice reached into her head._

_"What is your house?" it asked._

_"Slytherin," she answered. This game was easy._

_"What is the day today?"_

_"Friday," she said willingly._

_"What is your name?"_

_That was when it happened. Why should she be playing this game? It was safer to stay away from the light, safer to stay in the dark, right?_

_"What is your name?"_

_She saw the black cloud; she would be safe there. She walked into it, and a chilly breeze bit her skin, but she liked it, so she stayed._

_"What is your name?"_

_Ginny woke, the coldness of the cloud bringing her around. She rubbed her eyes and frowned as a sour taste entered her mouth. Then she frowned in earnest. They had tried to extract the answers from her forcibly. She looked Dumbledore in the eye. Feelings of betrayal, pain, hate, and loneliness washed over her. Deceived by the people she was supposed to trust. The people who were supposed to protect her. The people who - no matter what - did what was right. But this was wrong. They had tricked her...the only people she trusted. She looked around and realized it had been wrong to trust them. How could she trust them? A waste of a Slytherin and four Gryffindors. How could she have ever thought she could trust them?_

_"I trusted you...I trusted you," she said. Her world was shattering. She had trusted them. Bile rose in her throat, and she had to swallow hard not to puke. She was so disgusted. They had been good people...good people like Cedric. And they deceived her._

_She lurched from her seat and ran out of the room, unable to stand being in the same room with them._

* * *

I know. You thought it couldn't get worse...and then it went and got worse. I know.

"How," you may ask, "did they justify that little shenanigan?"

I can only answer what I think. They felt justified. They felt they could use me to get the answers to help them. It would seem a necessity to a Gryffindor. For the common good, for the good of the masses, that was the Gryffindor way. It was also the socialist way. All I can guess is that they felt they would protect more people than just me if they forced me into an eternal state of clairvoyance.

You didn't know? Re-he-he-he-healy? Well, here is a history lesson for you. A long time ago, the Greek god Apollo (whom modern wizarding historians have proved was in fact a real person, an early Grecian wizard) was punished by someone, who isn't important, to sit on the seat of the Delphi shrine. Well, he was so upset, one day he cursed it, so when any true oracle sat on it, they would be in an eternal state of clairvoyance. That meant any other damn person on the whole bloody earth could sit on it and not be cursed, unless they were an oracle. Morgana le Fay was an oracle. Morgana le Fay sat on it one day near the end of her life and never got up again. Some oracles have sat there their whole lives. There hasn't been one in centuries though, not since Aaron Mondaigo died in 1739. They wanted to banish me to a life of prison, of prison in the future, away from reality. They had to be kidding if they thought I was that stupid.

I was in an eternal (okay, so it wasn't so eternal) state of bitchiness right then. I left Hogwarts the next day a very upset woman. I also returned that way, but that is a story for later.


	7. Year Five, Part One, Faded

**Author's Note:** On a side note, I love Calvin Coolidge. If you are wondering who he is, he was the President of the United States of America during the Roaring Twenties. If you are wondering what he did, it is nothing. He basically sat on the porch of the White House and drank coffee in his rocking chair while reading the newspaper and scratching his dog on the neck occasionally. If you are wondering what this quote is doing here, well, Harry is very persistent the chapter.

* * *

**CHAPTER SEVEN: Year Five, Part One, Faded**

"Nothing in this world can take the place of persistence. Talent will not; nothing is more common than unsuccessful people with talent. Genius will not; un-rewarded genius is almost a proverb. Education will not; the world is full of educated derelicts. Persistence and determination alone are omnipotent. The slogan 'press on' has solved and always will solve the problems of the human race."

– Calvin Coolidge (1872 – 1933)

* * *

Summertime, hmm, I like that time. A time away from schoolwork, a time away from teachers, a time away from stress. A good time to relax, a good time to let your hair down and bathe in the July sun, a good time to plot revenge against your headmaster for trying to use you in his plans for the future and how did that get in there?

So my summer was relaxing; how was yours? I didn't sleep and eat because I didn't have enough time in between being livid and using my diary to catch up on how angry I was. Oh, how I hated them. There were no words. NO WORDS! How can you hate a person (several, actually) so much that you have no words to describe it? Well, I hated several people (Tom, Harry, Dumbledore, Snape, McGonagall, Black, to name a few) like that. I _HATED_ them and with damn good reason.

You don't just use me. No one _USES _me. If anyone is going to get used, it is going to be you. Oh, you think not? Well, we'll just see about that, won't we?

And hatred stings. It burns the insides. It shrivels all previous wants and desires. It builds inside. If there's no way to let it out, to distinguish it, you get burnt. It is like holding a firecracker in your hand. If you leave it open, you might get burnt a bit. But if you close your hand around that same firecracker, you'll get your hand blown off. That was about the same thing happening to me. I refused to let my feelings go; people who feel are weak, and I am not weak. So I kept it inside. If I couldn't find an outlet (and believe me, Nysilia's ring makes it worse; I could barely concentrate on anything for Chani's ring to work) soon, I was going to explode. Not only that, others would get burnt as well.

I tried everything. Beating up my brother didn't help, though it was fun. (Okay, long story made short: I was on my period, and he asked me what was wrong. I took it a bit out of context, I'll admit, but he had a twenty foot minimum; in other words, he got anywhere in the perimeter of twenty feet from me, I was automatically livid.) And, as you may have figured out, yelling at my mother did NOT help.

But just as soon as Mount St. Helens (a.k.a. me) was going to erupt, a miracle came. It was mid-July when Harry came over. I was furious (remember the eternal state of bitchiness, because it was still there) already because of something I don't remember, and to top it all off, he was coming to my house. My sanctuary (kind of) away from him.

Quoting Jimi Hendrix's "All Along the Watchtower,"

"_There must be some kind of way out of here,"_

_Said the joker to the thief._

"_There's too much confusion,_

"_I can't get no relief."_

I couldn't "get no relief," as Jimi so grammatically correctly put it. It was all bottled up until one afternoon...

* * *

_Belly down, Ginny lay on the floor of her tree house, her real safe haven from the storm. She always felt calmer in there; it was easier for her to think._

_Oh, she loved it. The mists came, rising in her mind. She would meet another, another sister. A clean smell came into her nose, oranges, vanilla, and jasmine. It was an interesting smell, very clear and distinct. She opened her eyes, eager to see the room she was in. It was medium sized and had a low, Japanese style table in the center. There was calligraphy on the walls as well as traditional brush paintings. On the table sat a tea set, and at the table sat a small, young looking woman. She was obviously Japanese by the slant of her eyes and the color of her skin, white as milk. She wore her hair back in a comb of jade and a green patterned kimono. She knelt at the table, sipping her tea gracefully and reading a scroll. She looked up at Ginny and motioned for her to sit. Ginny glanced at the woman's walls; the calligraphy was poetry, haikus to be exact._

"_Ginevra," she said in a slightly accented voice, "I am happy to see you have made it this far. I am called Shijin, the Maiden of the Arts. Please, have some tea."_

_Ginny sat across from her, doing her best not to stare. This was the greatest room she'd been in her whole life! Ginny was surprisingly comfortable sitting on the pillow, and she dared a drink of tea. It was delicious. Merlin, she wished she lived here!_

"_Now, I have a gift for you, as you know," Shijin began. On the table was a small box with ornate cranes painted delicately on the top. Shijin opened it and extracted a silver ring. Written in Japanese was Virgin-Maiden of the Arts. "I bestow my training and knowledge on you, Ginevra."_

_Ginny took it from Shijin's hand and felt the cooling sensation flow freely though her. "What is this?"_

_Shijin_ _smiled and said, "I think you will figure out what it does soon enough, my butterfly. My suggestion is go home and sleep first though; you look as if you could use it. Please use it wisely, Ginevra; it is a very powerful ring. I'm sorry my time with you is so short, but my last piece of advice is be creative. Ja ne, Little Butterfly!"

* * *

_

The mists receded again, and I was lying belly up on the floor of my tree house, a silver ring in my hand. I studied it carefully. It wasn't particularly beautiful like Nefertiti's, nor did it seem to fill me with any dark powers like Morgana's, or freeze my soul like Nysilia's. But I could tell, just by looking at it, that it was indeed special. I wish I could have studied it more, but it was time to go to dinner...

* * *

"_Ginny! Ginny! Come down, Ginny, dinner is ready," she heard her brother shout. Ginny sighed and climbed slowly out of the tree house, none too anxious to be in that house with Harry but anxious to take Shijin's advice._

_Ron was inside by the time she entered the house, inside and talking to Harry at the kitchen table. Ginny took a seat at the opposite side of the table and opened the book she had brought with her from the tree house. She acknowledged Harry in no way but did note Hermione was absent. She could feel his eyes burn into the top of her head as she flipped the pages nonchalantly. She also noted that no one had spoken since she had entered and her mother wasn't bobbing around anywhere, fawning over Harry._

_She exhaled loudly and put her book face down on the table. "What?" she asked in a voice that betrayed her agitation._

_Harry and Ron were looking livid, and Ginny found it hard to get upset about it. "What?" she repeated._

"_Emergency at the Ministry," Ron said coldly. "Mum went to help; she thought her mediwitch skills would help."_

"_And?"_ _Ginny asked._

"_So why didn't you tell anyone?" Harry said angrily._

_Ginny worked hard to keep her facial expressions under control, as well as her temper. "How would I have known?" she said in a mock sweet voice._

"_Harry told me you can see the future, that you predicted it twice," Ron said. "Why aren't you at Delphi, Ginny? We need you now more than ever!"_

"_Why?" Ginny said in a quiet voice. "_Why_, you say. Okay, I'll tell you why. Tell me, Ronald, do you know how long I would have to stay there?"_

"_Probably until the war is over," he answered simply._

_Ginny flashed a dangerous smile. "Oh, so, five years, seven years, ten years? Well, that doesn't seem so bad if it is for the cause, right?"_

"_Exactly!"_ _Ron said with a smile. "So we'll owl Dumbledore and tell him you'll do it!"_

"_You bloody well better not!" Ginny said, now standing. "I wouldn't just stay there 'five or seven or ten years,' Ronald! I would stay there my whole life. If I sat on that damnable seat at Delphi, I would be trapped there, seeing the future or its possibilities for the REST OF MY LIFE!"_

_Ron and Harry's faces went pale._

"_So why don't I want to go to Delphi? I wonder, would you if it meant you would never see your enemies die, your friends prosper, your life lived? I don't think you would, Ronald. I don't think you would either, Harry."_

"_If it killed Voldemort," Harry growled, "I would do anything."_

"_Easy for you to say that, Harry._ _I've seen your death. Or at least I've seen how you could die. But I can't tell you; no, there are rules to this sort of thing, I know that now. So even if I did know there was going to be an attack on the Ministry, I wouldn't tell a soul, not a bloody soul. Do you know why? I wouldn't do _ANYTHING _to kill Tom. I would do the thing that killed him. You know nothing, Harry, and, Ronald, you know even less. So just shut up about things you don't know." Then Ginny walked out of the room and up to hers, completely forgetting about dinner._

_For the longest time, she sat in there with Nysilia's ring on, trying not to feel anything bad but, at the same time, trying to stay aware enough to keep awake. A day or so later, she took it off and was assaulted with the pain over again, but she was used to it by now. She was used to pain; it kept her alive. Without pain, one can't know if they're bleeding. Ginny was bleeding with Nysilia's ring on, but she couldn't feel it. One day she would just bleed to death._

_Ginny walked downstairs one morning, expecting Harry and Ron to be out practicing. Instead, they were inside with George and Fred, both of whom looked awfully tired. Ginny leaned in the doorway, escaping people's attention for a while as they spoke._

"_And how is she?" George asked. He had never looked so old before; maybe it was the dark rings under his eyes._

"_Ginny?" Ron asked._

"_No, your imaginary girlfriend," Fred said dully, taking a long drink of coffee._

"_I don't know. She has been up there for days. She doesn't talk when we open the door..."_

_Holding her letter for Draco and pretending to be oblivious to the conversation, Ginny walked in the room. "Morning, Fred; morning, George," she said, trying to sound genial._

"_Morning, Ginny," they said together._

_She tied the letter to her owl, Fräulein, a medium-sized silver owl with coppery eyes. "Fliegen Sie schnelles Fräulein. Liefern Sie die Nachricht sicher und schnell kleine Eule," she said to it soothingly in German. "Schicken Sie Draco dies direkt."_

_The silvery owl speed off to her destination, and Ginny smiled after it._

"_Who was that to?" Ron asked._

"_Where I send Fräulein is none of your damn business, Ronald," she spat over her shoulder as she picked up her broom at the door and began walking out._

_A hand grabbed her arm and spun her about. "Who was the letter to, Gin?" George asked._

"_Draco," Ron said. "I think it was to Draco; I heard his name."_

"_Is that true?" Fred asked._

_Ginny didn't have time to answer, but Harry did. "They are something of a couple, she and Draco."_

_Ginny shook her head. "No, we aren't."_

"_Then what are you?" Harry asked harshly. "His whore, his own personal slut?"_

How can I hurt him most? _Ginny asked herself. "Wouldn't you like to know? I mean, isn't that the big question? What is the relationship between Draco and Ginny? Is she his concubine? Is she his friend? Is she his girlfriend? Does she do his homework for him? Wouldn't you all like to know? I'll give you a hint: I don't love him, and he doesn't love me."_

"_Doesn't it bother you that his father is a Death Eater, Gin? Doesn't it bother you that he will be one too?" Fred asked her._

_Ginny smiled ruefully. "We can't change what we are or what we will become, Fred, just like we can't change the sun from setting. If it wasn't him, it would be someone else, one of you maybe. And besides, why would you care? You never cared before. You don't take care of me anymore; you never really did."_

_George had let go of her, and they were all looking at her with apologetic expressions on her face._

"_Now really, don't blame yourselves. It isn't like you asked me to be put in Slytherin. I'm surviving just fine without you. In fact," she said, looking at Harry, "I could probably survive better _without _some of you. So go and rest easy on the morals Mother and Father taught us. Don't give up on me yet; it isn't the Gryffindor way. Just forget for a while, forget until the time comes when I could help you. I'm just warning you, Slytherins aren't so forgiving, and I've already been betrayed by my fair share of Gryffindors. Now if you'll excuse me, the star Chaser on the Slytherin Quidditch team needs to practice as much as anyone. I'll see you this evening. And don't worry about Mother and Father; they will be fine."_

_Dinner wasn't forgotten though. She headed down into town and got a table at a pub called Molly's Tankard. She was going to experiment with Shijin's ring. It was simple like Chani's, but it drew her eyes to it. It was like art itself. She sat at the small table and took out her sketch pad. Ginny studied the costumers and then began to sketch._

_It was different from what sketching felt like without the ring. It was more natural. It was as if her hand moved over the paper like a cool breeze across the ocean. It was a smooth and purifying feeling._

_She darkened the background of the sketch, imitating the darkness in the pub and bringing out the gruff hopelessness of the older costumers. The older costumers who had sat there for twenty years at least and would probably sit there for twenty more, if their livers and wives allowed it._

_She sat in the dark corner for a long while, long after midnight, until the barkeep called out closing time and she left. No one gave her a second glance. Barely anyone noticed her. She had used a Masses Cloak, one she had made herself. She had wanted to experiment with it for some time now. It was supposed to make her nearly invisible in crowds. It was supposed to make people look over her. It had worked very well; the waitress constantly forgot about her._

_When she returned home, Fred and George were up and talking to Harry and Ron still. She hung her cloak on the coat rack near the door and put her broom in the closet, still hanging on to her sketch book. She didn't speak to or acknowledge them in any way, just headed up to her room.

* * *

_

I still think Shijin's ring is the greatest one. It made me feel clean again. It released my emotions through art. It was a good feeling, and I slept well with it.

Mother and Father returned home the next day, both looking exhausted and ready to sleep. I stayed out of sight. You know what they say. "Out of sight, out of mind."

The summer seemed to fly after that. I tried to keep out of the house as much as I could. It wasn't much fun for me to be home. I used to look forward to it, but now it seemed more a punishment than a reward. I would rather have been at school with people I didn't trust or even like than at home, and that is saying a lot.

I was fading, and I could feel it. It was as if the ocean had swallowed me and I didn't care. The lion in my heart was nothing more than a shadow, and the snake had wrapped itself around my heart so tightly there was no telling if I would wake up dead the next morning because it had stopped pumping. I didn't care. I didn't care enough, and that was why I was fading. My world didn't know me, my family didn't know me, I didn't know me. I didn't want to know me. I just wanted to be. I wanted to get it over with. I had long ago stopped wanting for foolish things like happiness and love. I only wanted the recognition that came with intense power. Yes, I wanted power too. I wanted the heartless machine heart that came with power. I wanted things that weren't good for me. The thing I'd learned was you could want all you want, that didn't mean you'd get it. Sometimes things call for action, and sometimes things don't. Power calls for action. You can't wake up one day powerful and feared. You have to earn that fear; you have to earn that power. Looking back, that is the only thing I really cared about. Showing people they were wrong through getting all the power I could.

And I was all right with it all. "It all" wasn't all right with me, but that didn't matter. Power mattered. But before power, I had to go to school.

So I did. September 1st came, and I boarded the train to Hogwarts. Draco stood by my side, still tainted from his father's influence over the summer months. Draco didn't like going home any more than I did.

Start of Term Feast came, and I sat through the lines of first years all nervous to be sorted. There was a smaller number of Slytherins that year, only four. I decided it was because the parents were dying off. Draco decided it was because everyone wanted to be like the brave Harry Potter. It might have been true because the number of Gryffindors was nine, an ungodly large number.

School went smoothly for the first month. My walls quickly accumulated with sketches and doodles I did in my spare time. I was definitely getting better under Shijin's tutelage. That is what I considered it. It wasn't as if I just wore the ring and I was a better painter than I already had been. I still had to work on it, and I worked hard. But I picked up little skills every time I used the ring. It was as if I had a teacher telling me little tips and short cuts to being a better artist. My poetry improved too. It was as though Shijin's ring released my most hidden emotions but I didn't have to feel them; I just had to express them in art. It didn't hurt, though sometimes it hurt to look at the art.

At any rate, Mabon came around, and Draco wished me a happy birthday. I was well on my way to being an Animagus. I remember the day I found out what animal I'd be; I'm sure you're interested.

* * *

"_Now," Professor McGonagall said, preparing the vision circle, "as you know, your animal will reflect your soul magic. It will be an inner symbol of you and your characteristics. I have borrowed an Animagus animal symbolism book from the library for you to look at later if you so choose. Miss Weasley, are you ready for this?"_

"_Yes," Ginny said confidently. She had read about this step in Animagus training. Once she stepped in the circle, she would be able to see the reflection of her soul magic in animal form. It was something everyone had and everyone could do, but most didn't take the time to do it._

"_Good," McGonagall said, not bothering to check on her. In McGonagall's experience, the girl was always ready. Why she had been put in Slytherin was beyond her. Ginny could have done well in Ravenclaw or Gryffindor. The hat, she guessed, saw it differently. "Now step inside the circle."_

_Drawing her wand, Ginny stepped inside the circle. Immediately, the Soul Sand began to glow and sparkle. Ginny knew she had to do the incantation soon, or the power of the sand would be exhausted. "_VEO ANIMLIA_!" she shouted._

_Then a black form came out of her wand, a projection of sorts. She saw the eyes before she saw its form. They were a coppery brown-gold, just like her eyes, and seemed to be calculating her in a way, trying to find a flaw in her character before it truly came into vision. They must have found her worthy because the form of the animal began to clear. Three seconds later, a dark, cat-like creature stood before her. It paced around her, padding lightly on its paws and measuring her with its golden eyes. Finally, it blinked up at her and let out a roar of approval; then it vanished from sight._

_Ginny stood in the Soul Sand's dying light, amazed. She was –_

"– _a panther._ _Well, isn't that interesting?" Professor McGonagall said in a voice that betrayed only a small portion of her actual amazement._

_Ginny stepped out of the circle and sat heavily on the nearby chair, taking a drink of the water. She blinked a couple of times then opened the animal symbolism book._

"_I know that it takes a lot out of a person," McGonagall said in a business-like voice. "So this is where we will stop for tonight, Miss Weasley. Good night; I'll see you next Thursday at seven."_

_Ginny nodded vaguely and finally found the place that talked about panthers. Taking another drink of water, she read aloud from the old text, "The panther has long been known for its connection with death and rebirth. Though to further understand the panther, you have to understand its origins. It lives in the deep jungles, secluded from company except when mating. They have long been known as the guardians of Soul Power and have powers over astral travel and clairvoyance. They stand for feminine power, beauty, and confidence. They are also associated with swiftness, cunning, strength, perseverance and boldness. But they are most deeply connected with death and the understanding of death, the ability to know the dark, and reclaiming one's power."_

_Ginny exhaled swiftly. Well, that was a lot to swallow. Her Soul Animal was an animal of darkness and death. _I think it fits you fine_, her subconscious said dully. Ginny frowned and decided to look up McGonagall's Soul Animal._

_She skimmed the section on cats, picking out words like, "independence, protection, guardianship, detachment, wisdom, aloofness, balance, self-assurance, recuperative power and intelligence." McGonagall's Soul Animal was right on track._

_Ginny flipped back to her animal. "Reclaiming one's power," she said quietly. She was supposed to in some way help the Green Knight defeat the Dark One. What if she was supposed to "reclaim his power"? If she had that ability, did it only extend to the Green Knight? Or could anyone use it, say Tom? If so, it would make sense. She did reclaim his old power, at least some of it, in her first year by bringing his sixteen year old soul back to life. Thinking back, most people shouldn't have been able to do that. Resurrecting someone's soul would take a lot of power, power an eleven year old girl shouldn't have._

_She frowned and looked back to the selection. "Guardians of Soul Power... clairvoyance," she mumbled. That meant she must have been something of a clairvoyant before she came upon Morgana's ring. If it was in her soul, or at least her Soul Animal, it had been there long before she put Morgana's ring on her finger. Staring blankly at the page, she thought. If she was this Virgin Of/From Light, the passage "deeply connected with death and the understanding of death, the ability to know the dark" made a lot of sense indeed. She obviously wasn't a Virgin OF Light, because she wasn't a virgin. She had to be a Virgin From the Light, as she had never experienced true purity. She had never really known the light; that was associated with the pure, the proud, the Gryffindor. She definitely wasn't that virgin._

_Everything was falling into place, making sense and fitting together beautifully. She had six of the seven rings and had learned and was still learning about all of them. But it wasn't all great and good. What if she didn't want to be the Virgin From Light? What if she didn't want to be part of the Great Plan of Life? What if that wasn't part of her plan?_

"_I wouldn't have a choice anyway," she said quietly to herself. She would never have a choice in this. She was too deep in now; she was too engrossed. This was just one of those things she'd have to accept.

* * *

_

And I swear I've done my best to accept it; I've done my best to fit in with the plan. For my part, I have. Other people...well, again, I can't get into that just now. Be patient though; all will come together in the end.

Life went on for me, me and the rest of the school. Halloween came and went just like the end of October. Teachers stressed over first term finals, and students stressed about stressed teachers stressing about first term finals.

I was calm as ever and had just finished my masterpiece (okay, so I was fifteen; it was a masterpiece then) of my Soul Animal. In the painting, I was crouched down beside it, and our eyes were level with each other, showing the similarities. Draco said he liked that one the most because of the eyes. He said it gave the painting a primal feeling, as though man and nature were meant to have some bonds. I found out he was something of an art critic, and he actually had good taste.

At any rate, life progressed as normal. Some Slytherin sixth and seventh years got in a fight with some Gryffindor sixth and seventh years over the opening Quidditch match, Gryffindor vs. Slytherin. I thought the Slytherins were being stupid and the Gryffindors were egging them on. Fortunately, Draco and Harry weren't involved with this particular spat, so no one died or anything.

Our Quidditch team was young this year. Henry Morrison, a Beater with Derrick the year before, didn't come back to school that term; no one knew what happened to him. So we picked up those slobbering idiots, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, to be our Beaters. They were actually good players, and Draco, the team captain, was satisfied with them. Warrington and Montague gone, we had room for two new Chasers. They ended up being boys from my year, Julius Flint, the younger brother of Marcus (and by they way, they looked almost identical, though Julius must have been more self-conscious because he got his horrid teeth straightened), and Adam Dolohov, a dark haired and eyed boy I found mildly handsome. With Jonathan Wilkes returning as Keeper, we were a solid seven. The team would be competitive that year, and I was grateful for it. Another game like the one against Gryffindor, and I would die of shame.

But no matter what happened, someone was going to die because I wasn't very happy with my teammates.

* * *

"_One more fucking time, Draco, and I swear there will be blood. Lots of blood, Draco, and you'll need two new Chasers, and you won't even be able to find the body parts of your Beaters!" Ginny yelled at him in her dormitory one night._

"_Boys will be boys," he said in a nonplussed voice, lounging on her bed as she brushed her hair at her vanity._

"_I'm just saying, you won't have any boys if they don't stop," Ginny said more calmly. "Are they just too stupid to figure out I'm off limits?"_

"_Yes," he answered, picking up her sketch book to look at one of her newest drawings. "This one is good," he commented. "Are you going to paint it?"_

_Ginny flopped down on the bed next to him, and he put his arm around her shoulder. "No, not unless I can get the hands right. They are supposed to be holding it, not floating through it."_

_Draco_ _flipped to the next page, and Ginny sat with him quietly. She liked to watch him think; it was soothing. She decided she would have to capture that feeling someday. Then she yawned and said, "Get out; I'm tired."_

_Draco_ _rolled his eyes and said, "Well then, Your Highness, don't let me intrude." He rolled out of the bed, putting the book on her bedside table. Closing her door, he walked out, and Ginny fell asleep to dream of Quaffles and the Quidditch pitch._

_Ginny was filled with unfelt anxiety as she walked the halls of Hogwarts the day of the Gryffindor vs. Slytherin match. Everywhere she went, Gryffindors were looking to trip her up, get in fights, and be general arseholes. She couldn't blame them though; her teammates were doing the same thing. She walked in the middle of her "bodyguards," who consisted of the three boys in her year that were on the team, Jonathan Wilkes, Julius Flint, and Adam Dolohov._

_The opposing Gryffindors gave them nasty looks as they passed and never could get enough satisfaction in calling her the Snake's Mistress. Rumors flew about her coupling with virtually every Slytherin, young and old, male and female. But she didn't care. _Let them believe what they want_, she thought._

_Harry had managed to recruit the rest of his team, filling the spaces of Alicia Spinnet and Katie Bell, the Chasers, with fourth year Dennis Creevey and seventh year Anna Silverstream. He managed to find a better Keeper than the previous year with a sixth year by the name of Dean Thomas. Ginny knew his team would be inexperienced, but they still had Harry, the boy who had only lost one game in his whole life._

_Soon, the match came, and Ginny was standing on her oh-so-familiar side of the field listening to the oh-so-familiar "play fair" speech of Madam Hooch and getting soaked to the bone by the oh-so-familiar November showers. It was a fantastic day to be playing Quidditch if she did say so herself._

_The Quaffle was released, and the game begun. "And Hurricane Weasley takes the Quaffle for the first play of the season," Rhonda Lane, the seventh year Ravenclaw, commentated to the crowd. "Watch out, Gryffindor, because the Hurricane is in her atmosphere during this storm, and I'm betting angry about last year's little Dopplebeater Defense. Crabbe or Goyle, I can't tell them apart, beats away Gryffindor's first line of defense, allowing the Hurricane passage onto Gryffindor ground. And Hurricane Weasley is the first to be put on the boards. Slytherin, ten; Gryffindor, zero."_

_Ginny sped about the pitch, the crowd in green cheering the play as she stole the Quaffle from her brother and tossed it to her teammate, Julius Flint. Through an excellent display of teamwork, Crabbe and Goyle successfully beat a path through the Gryffindors once again, allowing Flint_ _to score and Dolohov to steal the Quaffle right out from under the Gryffindor Chaser's nose._

"_And although it is hard to believe, Slytherin seems to have better teamwork than the Gryffindors. Captain Draco Malfoy has done something right by putting this young team together. And ten more points for Slytherin, compliments of Hurricane Weasley. Slytherin, thirty; Gryffindor, zero. This match is turning out like last year's; let's hope for Slytherin's sake the Hurricane can stay on her broom._

"_And off she goes again, Hurricane to Dolohov, Dolohov to Hurricane, Hurricane to the goals, and an excellent Reverse_ _Pass_ _right into the expectant hands of Flint. Flint goes for the goal, and it just barely skims the Gryffindor Keeper's fingers, goal four for Slytherin. Oh, WATCH THAT BLUDGER, MADAM HOOCH! THAT WAS DELIBERATE BUMPHING ON SLYTHERINS' PART! Filthy tactic; KEEP IT CLEAN, MALFOY!_

"_No call on that one; sorry, Gryffindor._ _Oh, what is this? Has Potter seen the Snitch? He goes in for the catch; it might be low, next to the Slytherin stands...wait, HE'S GONNA COLLIDE! Watch out, Potter! Malfoy is closing in though, and what is this? Potter pulls up? Pull up, MALFOY, PULL UP! Well, that was close! Potter didn't even see the Snitch; wonderful Wronski Feint._

"_Play resumes, and the Hurricane has the Quaffle again. Another excellent Reverse_ _Pass_ _to Flint,_ _and it is stolen by Weasley of Gryffindor. He heads down field and passes to Anna Silverstream, a seventh year replacing Spinnet. Stolen brutally by the Hurricane as she executes her famous Transylvanian Tackle. She chucks down field to Dolohov, and it is intercepted by Creevey the younger, a third year who is almost as quick as the Hurricane. OH, WATCH IT, CREEVEY! Nasty hit to the stomach from Crabbe. Dolohov recovers the Quaffle, and it is intercepted again by Weasley of Gryffindor. He goes for an unlikely shot, AND I CAN'T BELIEVE IT, he scores! Wilkes looks furious, and he tosses it off to the Hurricane. What is this? The Woollongong Shimmy? It is! And it is beautiful! Perfect zigzags by the Hurricane, and she is doing her job by distracting those Gryffindor Chasers. I can barely see her, and neither can Thomas, Gryffindor's Keeper. The score is fifty to ten, Slytherin still in control."_

_Ginny smiled as she intercepted the Quaffle again; everything was going her way, and she hadn't been hit yet. The rain was a bit of a distraction, but it was more of a distraction for the Gryffindors. Draco had made the team practice in this by simulating rainy conditions on the pitch._

_Play after play, "Hurricane" Weasley beat the Gryffindor Keeper. He really wasn't much better than Jacobs, last year's Keeper. Soon the score was 120 to forty; half of the points were hers to claim, and all of the points against them were her brother's to claim. Rain poured down on them, and then it happened._

"_I sure am glad I'm under a waterproof pavilion," Rhonda continued. "The weather is awful out there, but the Hurricane seems to be loving it. She advances once again on the Gryffindor Keeper, and, what a surprise, she scores again, 130 to forty. At this point – OI! What is this? Malfoy is neck to neck with Potter; the real Snitch seems to have finally appeared. Potter is breaking away; Malfoy might want to invest in a Firebolt if he gets the chance. And the Snitch soars higher with Potter and Malfoy close at its heels. And oh, no, Malfoy, watch out, there's –"_

"_DRAAAACOOOOOOO!"_ _Ginny screeched at the top of her lungs._

_It came in slow motion. The Bludger hit by the two Gryffindor Beaters made contact with the back of Draco's head; she saw his eyes roll back, and he began falling from the broom. The scarlet and gold crowd cheered as Harry caught the Snitch. Ginny whipped her wand out of her green jersey and pointed it at the plunging Draco. "_CORPUS LEVIOSA_!" she yelled as loud as she could. His body jerked roughly as it stopped in midair._

_Madam Hooch took control from there, putting his body on a stretcher and flying with it quickly to the castle._

_Ginny sank to the ground and was joined by Wilkes, Flint, and Dolohov. Flint_ _and Dolohov began talking about the unfairness of it all while Wilkes just studied Ginny. She knew she must have looked a little weak, but it didn't matter. She began walking quickly after Draco, and then she broke into a run. She was stalled by the crowd of Gryffindor. She pushed her way through, earning nasty looks from the celebrating Gryffindors. She cleared the crowd and sprinted towards the castle. Ginny took the steps two at a time till she reached the infirmary doors._

_Just as she was about to put her hand on the door knob, it opened and revealed her Potions professor, Severus Snape. Ginny stepped back in surprise and clutched a stitch in her side._

"_Madam Pomfrey is working on him," Snape informed her. Ginny nodded and tried to catch her breath. "She says his chances are good, and he should be able to receive visitors tomorrow." Ginny nodded, and he left her breathing heavily and looking thankful. She leaned against the wall next to the door, deciding she could wait there that night and maybe slip past Madam Pomfrey's eagle eyes._

_Ginny took off her green Quidditch uniform and sat on it, leaving her in an only slightly dry school shirt and a pair of denim jeans. Putting her head between her knees, Ginny waited and waited._

_It must have been around midnight_ _when she smelled it. HE was there. She didn't open her eyes to see if he was there; she knew he was, and that was good enough for her. The breeze he created moved her hair and tickled her nose._

_Then Ginny opened her eyes. To his credit, he didn't move or make a sound; she couldn't see him, so she couldn't judge his facial expressions. She licked her lips and said, "Just because I can't see you doesn't mean I don't know you're there, Harry."_

_Again he didn't move or speak, so Ginny tried a slightly different tactic. Quicker than the speed of light, she kicked her legs out from under her, and she heard him hit the floor with a thud. The cloak slipped down to his waist. Sitting back against the wall, Ginny drew her wand and pointed it at him. He saw this and didn't move or make a sound. Ginny removed the invisibility cloak with her free hand and put it down next to her._

"_Sit on your hands," she said in a commanding voice, "slowly."_

_He did so, not looking happy about it._

"_Stay quiet," she ordered. "Filch doesn't go out past one in the morning, so we won't get caught if you keep your mouth shut when I tell you."_

_He nodded, and Ginny dropped her wand a bit, resting her hand on her knee. "So," she said quietly, "what are you doing here, Harry?"_

"_So I'm allowed to talk?" he asked sarcastically._

"_I wouldn't have asked you if you weren't," she answered in a level voice._

"_I wanted to see if Malfoy was going to live," he answered._

"_How _noble_," Ginny said without any hint of emotion._

_Harry sneered. "You say that like it's something bad."_

"_Perhaps," she answered in a bored voice._

"_What is your major malfunction, Ginny? You didn't used to be like this," he said._

_Ginny suppressed the urge to laugh. "My major malfunction? I think I'm functioning fine, Harry. What's your 'major malfunction'?"_

_A muscle in his eye twitched, and she heard him grumble something like "you" as he looked away._

_Ginny chuckled a bit and leaned against the wall, closing her eyes. "Why did you really come down here, Harry?"_

"_I told you, so I could –"_

"_Ah, ah, ah," she said chidingly, tapping her head, "I know that one is a lie. What now, Harry?"_

_She could feel his eyes on her as he answered, "I don't know. I've been having odd dreams..."_

_She opened her eyes as he died off. "What?" she asked._

"_It's stupid," he said, looking her in the eye._

"_I'm still waiting," she said coldly._

_Harry frowned at her and said, "Fine. You are there, in most of them. But you are different from how you are now, more human," he spat. "And Voldemort is there too."_

_Ginny bit the inside of her mouth as she thought. He looked at her expectantly, and she said, "I'm not laughing, and it isn't stupid."_

_He moved closer to her and put his hands in his lap. "Why? What do you know, Ginny?"_

_She twirled her hair with her fingers, ignoring him and his line of questioning. "'But with darkness, always comes the light,'" Ginny said quietly, quoting Reonet. "'A Green Knight...'"_

"_How did you know?" he asked her in a whisper, inching closer. She looked into his eyes. _Green, _she thought absently. _Green? Green Knight? He is a Gryffindor...terribly noble...knight-like. Perhaps... _She averted her eyes and put her wand in her Hogwarts shirt, not answering._

"_How did you know?" he asked her again, his voice more insistent._

"_How do we know anything, Harry? We were told once, a very long time ago."_

"_By who, then?"_

"_Can't tell you that," she said with a snort. She looked him in the eye. "Leave."_

"_No."_

"_Now."_

"_No!" he whispered harshly._

"_Someone is coming," she informed him. His ears perked up, and he listened intently. Then, as fast as light, he threw his cloak around her, covering both of them with the light fabric. He looked at her and put his finger over his lips, signaling to keep quiet. She nodded and was silent._

"_We heard them, didn't we, Mrs. Norris?" the voice of Filch said into the dim corridors. "Heard them sneaking around. I'll bet you it's that Harry Potter and his friends, probably trying to sneak some food to their common room. Come along now; we'll head them off at the kitchens, my sweet."_

_They passed Harry and Ginny quickly, neither taking a second glance in their direction. Filch and Mrs. Norris were long gone and Ginny was about to move when she felt a hand on her leg. Before she knew it, Harry's hand was moving sensually up and down her thigh, and his nose was in her hair, taking in her scent. She stiffened automatically._

"_Ginny," he moaned into her ear, "you don't know what you do to me."_

_Ginny tried to back away slowly, but he followed her, finally pushing her to the ground and pinning her there. _Damnable rings! _she thought furiously. Why couldn't she have taken them off when she had the chance? Really, sometimes they were more trouble than they were worth._

"_Harry," she said solidly, "if you –"_

"_Shh," he said, quieting her by putting his finger on her lips. He bent down to bury his nose in her hair again. "Ginny," he said in a thick voice, lifting his head to look her in the eye. "Just once. Let me kiss you, please."_

_Ginny's lips parted to protest, but no words came out. Harry's eyes sparkled; he thought that meant okay. At the last moment, Ginny turned her head away, and Harry's lips met air. "I'm not yours to kiss, Harry."_

_He let his head fall on her shoulder in defeat, and he whispered, "I know," into her neck. She felt his jaw clench, and then he forced her eyes to look at his, directing her chin with his fingers. Then he swiftly brought his lips to hers and placed a searing kiss on her mouth, forcing his tongue in her mouth roughly as he gripped her shoulders. Then he released her and stood up quickly. "I'm sorry," he said in a detached voice, backing up a bit. He looked at her once more and then fled while throwing his cloak over himself._

"_You've got him scared of himself now, Ginevra," an icy voice said from the doorway. Ginny looked up at Draco from the ground and could tell he was upset by the frown he wore. Draco rarely frowned. He sneered and mocked and smirked, but he only frowned when he was truly upset. He always became upset when he thought his things were being touched, and Ginny was his favorite plaything. "I told you that you should have nipped it in the bud."_

_Still frowning, he helped her up, and she dusted herself off. "You look horrid," she said calmly._

"_I have a migraine the size of Africa; of course I look 'horrid,'" he replied._

"_How do you feel?" she asked._

_"Horrid," he said sarcastically. "Pomfrey says I'll live and I was damn lucky you saved me."_

_Ginny shrugged. "I couldn't let your pretty face be any more scratched up than it already was."_

_"Thanks," he answered lazily. "But you should get to bed; you'll get caught out here all by yourself, either that or raped by the Boy Wonder."_

_Ginny sighed and pecked Draco on the cheek before heading to the dungeons.

* * *

_

Have I said it enough? I hate him. He ALWAYS does this to me. Damn him, damn him to hell! He just can't keep well enough away; he always has to come closer. I'm fucking cursed, and he is the fucking reason!

As you can tell, I'm not too lucky with things like this. All I wanted was to be left in the cold and not have to feel, and he comes along with his warm touches and throwing emotions around like they were party favors. Like I didn't have enough problems without him coming around every six months spewing love and beauty. He thought it was all about him; he thought just because he was Boy Wonder he could do whatever he wanted. I have news for you, Harry Potter! It isn't all fucking about you!

He thought he was so damn righteous he could just tell people to feel and they would. He thought he was so damn god-like he could just love people and they would love him back. He thought he was so fucking wonderful that everything would go his way just because he wanted it to. It was unbelievable what he got away with. It wasn't fair, and it wasn't right.

I began to understand why Draco hated him so.

I hurt for a long time after that. A long, long time. I had a hard time letting go. I always have had a hard time letting go.

But, fortunately, that was what Shijin's ring helped me do.

Do you know how to paint hate? I do. Do you know how to paint hurt and pain and confusion and jealousy and want and desire and beauty and dreams and love and hope and anxiety and every other emotion known to man? I do. And I was going to.

Some people considered it graffiti. Some people considered it inspiration. Some people thought it ugly. Some people thought it beautiful. Others called it the worst thing they had ever seen, while others yet called it a masterpiece.

I called it me. That was what it was, a reflection of myself in the form of visual art. I called it my brain child. I called it my Pandora's Box. I called it my release. I called it my undoing. I called it my life. I called it my death. But mostly, I just called it me. It was named Fire and Ice.

As you might have guessed, it was a painting. But at that point in time, it was only a plan for a painting. It was a plan I kept secret from the whole school, Draco included. There was only one thing I could do, wait. I couldn't just have people watching me while I painted it; no, that wouldn't do any good at all. I would have to wait for the right time to construct it.

I would have to wait till after the Yule Ball. After the Yule Ball, during the break, it would be safe to do it.

Yes, I still planned on going to the Yule Ball. Though, no, I wouldn't go with Draco. He still had obligations to Pansy. Really, I wasn't that sad about it, but it would be nice to go with someone I really wanted to go with for once. People asked me only because they knew Draco had to go with his "wife," but he still liked it for his "concubine" to go so he could at least look at her.

I had a lot of Ravenclaws and Gryffindors ask me actually, but I turned all of them down. Draco said I could only go with a Slytherin, one he approved of. Well you know what, Draco? Fuck you, too; I'll go with whomever I damn well please.

Weirdly enough, I actually ended up going with a Slytherin only because the boys from the other Houses disgusted me so much. I ended up going with a seventh year by the name of Austin Nott. He was the older brother of Darron Nott, a boy in my year I didn't like all that much. But Austin was quite good-looking, and I could do worse. He seemed very surprised that I accepted him as my date. But I didn't see why; he was the Head Boy and the smartest boy in his year.

At any rate, I would have someone to lead me around the dance floor.


	8. Year Five, Part Two, Blinded

**CHAPTER EIGHT: Year Five, Part Two, Blinded**

"You have undertaken to cheat me. I won't sue you, for the law is too slow. I'll ruin you."

– Cornelius Vanderbilt (1899–1992)

* * *

_Green was again the color of her dress. It was a deep, forest color of green, contrasting well with her fiery hair and pale skin. It was long, down to her toes, and completely sleeveless, cut like a tube top. She wore long gloves that went up past her biceps and showed her shoulders off nicely. On top of this, she wore a satiny green, long scarf around her neck; it was the same material as her dress. The only regret she had was that her dress was a little itchy on the inside, but it was all right if only for one night. It clung to her nicely and showed off her curves. She had opted for wearing the silver earrings Draco had got her last Christmas, the ones with the dark emerald inside. Her hair was piled artfully on top of her head, and several strands hung down her neck. Her makeup was once again a dark green, outlining her eyes. The green paled her face and made her lips look even redder when she put on her ruby lipstick. Once again, she looked –_

"_Beautiful," Draco said from the doorway. "You should look into fashion designing."_

"_It is a thought," she said absently, rising from her vanity. "Now, you look loads better than last year. I've always said lace wasn't your thing, Draco."_

"_Ah, but I picked out my own robes this time, too," he said proudly._

_Ginny smiled and walked downstairs with him. Once again, all eyes were on her; it was becoming a sort of tradition the Slytherin common room shared the night of the Yule Ball. _Oh, yes, _Ginny thought, _everyone stare at the concubine. The people want to see beauty? The people want be entertained? The people want to see perfection? I will give them beauty. I will entertain them. I will show them perfection. Damn them all to hell when they choke on it.

_But she smiled as Austin Nott took her arm and did the ritual showing of the Snake King's concubine. She smiled as they entered the Great Hall; all of it decked in Christmas cheer, cheerful people, and cheery music. She smiled still through the dinner she ate sparingly from and smiled during the first dance, reserved for the prefects and team captains._

_And Austin_ _smiled, having the most beautiful dancing partner and the most wanted girl in Hogwarts, despite her year. All was good in the world. All was cold, and all was in wait._

_She adjusted her long, green scarf about her neck again and looked into Austin_'_s adoring eyes. Was she bound to live like this? Was she destined to be a decoration on the arm of any man she deemed worthy enough? Was she to become a porcelain doll for the public to ooh and ah over like fireworks in a parade? Was she going to become like Narcissa, the coldly beautiful wife of Lucius? Or better than that even, a concubine of any rich man whose company she could stand? Was her life set in stone?_

_She looked longingly over at the Gryffindors. They laughed. They were full of life. They were happy like she couldn't be. They were content with their lives, never wanting to break free from the mold in which they'd been placed._

_Then someone caught her eye. It was Harry. He didn't look full of life. He didn't look happy or content. He looked like she felt but was too proud to show._

"_May I have this dance?" a sharp voice said from behind her, breaking whatever moment of revelry she had been experiencing and leaving it shattered on the dance floor. It was, of course, Draco._

_Nott looked a bit upset; not being the center of Ginny's attention could do that to a man. But he backed off, and Draco took her by the waist, pulling her towards the center of the room. A slower song started; Ginny put her head against Draco's chest, being too short to put it on his shoulders. He had grown, Ginny noticed, and was not too far from her brother's six feet five inches._

"_Having a good time?" he asked quietly._

"_As good as can be expected._ _I'm kind of bored actually," she admitted._

"_Care to stir things up then? I mean, how can you top last year's performance?" he said jokingly._

"_In a few minutes maybe," she said. "Could you check for me? I think he is looking at me again. He won't stop it; it's making me uncomfortable."_

_Draco_ _craned his neck and then said, "Oh, yes. He is. His date doesn't look too happy about it either. It's that Hufflepuff, Hannah Abbott. And, oh, there she goes. Yes, she is out the door and on her way to her common room, it seems."_

_Ginny snorted in amusement and said, "I don't think I could have found a more boring partner. Next time I'm going with a person who knows what a Quaffle is. Maybe I'll see if Wilkes wants to dance; he looks bored with his Ravenclaw date. What is her name? Pandora?"_

"_Padma._ _And if you are really that bored, leave," he suggested. But he couldn't fool Ginny._

"_What? Afraid someone will break your favorite toy?" she asked._

"_Yes, actually," he said seriously._

"_Fine," Ginny said reluctantly. "But I want a few dances with him. Three."_

"_One."_

"_Three."_

"_Two."_

"_Deal," Ginny said quickly._

"_How do you always get me?" Draco said, sounding quite childish._

"_No one can resist a pretty face, Draco," she said with a wink. "Goodnight. I know you'll be busy with Pansy tonight."_

"_Unfortunately, yes. But fortunately, someone taught her how to give a proper blow job, so I can't complain too much," he said dryly._

"_Watch out; she might hear you and try to please you right here on the floor," Ginny snickered._

"_Ha...ha...funny, Ginevra," he said, rolling his eyes._

_Then he led her to the table Nott was sitting at and dropped her off before heading to Pansy, who was looking at Ginny like she wanted to kill her, resurrect her, and then kill her again. Ginny couldn't blame her._

_Nott took her out on the floor, eager to show her off once more. He held her close, said all the right things, and moved all the right ways. Ginny just couldn't help feeling trapped and was grateful when people decided to start playing pass the Ginny. It was because Draco had left with Pansy, and they thought they could get away with it. Ginny didn't care. She danced with the sixth year Ravenclaw Terry Boot, the sixth year Hufflepuff Justin Finch-Fletchley, the sixth year Gryffindor Keeper Dean Thomas (who blushed furiously every time she smiled up at him), a few seventh year Slytherin students, Blaise Zabini, and every boy in her year that was in her house (Allen Parkinson, Evan Rosier, Darron Nott, Adam Dolohov, Julius Flint), and finally Jonathan Wilkes, her team's Keeper. She was having a decent time though._

_She finally got her way and had a dance or two with a person with whom she could talk Quidditch and who was easy to look at._

"_All they want to do is talk about me, when all I want to do is talk about Quidditch or _something _interesting," she sighed, leaning up against Jonathan Wilkes._

"_Not exactly what it's all cut out to be, being a dress-up doll for Draco Malfoy?" he asked in his deep voice that reminded her a bit of Franz._

"_Who said I was his dress-up doll?" she asked lightly, looking into his dark eyes._

"_So you deny it?" he asked speculatively._

"_I never heard it put that way before," she answered._

"_So you don't deny it."_

"_Why do you care?"_

"_I like to know whose toys I'm playing with, so I can put them back where they belong," he answered, with a frown._

_Ginny smirked up at him. "You don't like me, do you?"_

"_Don't get me wrong; you are the most beautiful girl in your year, maybe even the school. But if people knew how cold you really were, they'd forget your beauty and see you for what you really are."_

"_And what," she asked, a little intrigued, "is that?"_

"_An Ice Queen._ _A woman whose heart won't be broken by the thousands of picks that pry at it every day. In other words, an abomination of everything a woman should be," he answered coldly._

_Ginny smiled. "It is what I strive for, Jonathan. But what interests me most is how you saw through what fooled so many people. How did you see past the beauty?"_

"_Beauty isn't everything."_

"_That is where you are wrong, my friend. Beauty is everything, everything that matters anyway. Have you ever met a person who was ugly and famous? I haven't. No one even cares if you're ugly and famous. You're just a zit. An ugly reminder people don't want to remember. The person with the blackest heart can be the most loved person in the world because they have the most beautiful face. The public loves beauty. The public wants to be entertained. I say, let them be entertained. Let them pour their souls into it and then, when they can't pour anymore, crucify them for it because they were too shallow to see the truth."_

"_So that is what you want? To be loved?"_

"_No," she scoffed._

"_To be beautiful?"_

"_I'm already beautiful; you said that yourself, if I recall correctly."_

"_To be famous?"_

"_No."_

"_Then you want to steal people's souls?" he asked._

_At this, Ginny threw her head back and let out a light laugh but didn't answer his question._

"_Then what do you want?"_

To wake up in the morning and not feel the pain that resides in my chest_, she answered mentally._

"_Don't ask questions you're not prepared to hear the answers to, Wilkes," she said coldly._

_He looked down on her, his black eyes trying to divine her bronze-gold ones. Finally, he said, "I've said it before, and I'll say it again; you are cold."_

"_I know. That is why you don't like me. You figure a person feels. You figure a person has emotions. I don't have those things. I'm not human to you, and you don't like it," she said._

"_Yes."_

_She nodded and clapped politely as the last song ended. "Care to walk me to my room? My date seems to have left of a broken heart."_

"_Sure," he said, taking her arm._

_As they walked out of the room, they passed the Gryffindors, and Harry made eye contact with her then glared spitefully at Wilkes. Ron put his hand on Harry's shoulder to hold him back. Ginny tensed and held tighter to Wilkes' arm._

_Wilkes, who looked totally baffled, waited till they were on their way down to the dungeons before he began his line of questioning._

"_What the hell was that?" he hissed._

"_That was Harry making googly eyes at me then trying to beat you up. It happens virtually every year, just be happy you didn't end up like Warrington."_

"_That was true?" Wilkes said in a disbelieving voice._

"_What have you heard?"_

"_Potter caught you and Warrington fucking and in a fit of jealous rage beat him to a bloody pulp, and Draco quote, unquote rescued you from Potter as he advanced on you," Wilkes said._

"_That is one of the stories that follows the plot more or less correctly," Ginny admitted._

"_He is in love with you then?" Wilkes asked._

"_Who?_ _Warrington, Draco, or Harry?"_

"_All of them."_

"_Warrington_ _only wanted my body; he hated me. Draco is my protector and likes to think I am his personal toy. He doesn't like people touching me without his permission, but he isn't in love with me. Neither of us really knows how. Harry, however, is in love with me and becomes jealous at times because I don't return it," she answered in a solid voice._

_Wilkes was silent for a while before saying, "You are a dangerous person, Ginevra Weasley."_

"_I'm a dangerous person to love," she said, stopping in front of her door. "But you don't have a problem with that, do you, Jonathan?"_

"_No," Wilkes said firmly._

_Ginny smiled up at him and said, "That is probably for the best; I'm not good for you. I'm not good for anyone now."_

"_But you were once?" he asked cautiously._

"_I was pure once, I think," she replied. "I was happy, if I can remember it correctly. It was a long time ago. I suppose then I was good for people."_

"_I should leave," he said unsteadily._

"_Unless you want to come in," Ginny said. She was intrigued with him._

"_And if I do?" he asked in a low voice._

"_Promise not to take it the wrong way?" Ginny asked in a husky voice._

"_Deal," he said before he captured her lips solidly and backed her into her room, fumbling with the back of her dress. "You have to promise to be a good teacher though," he said thickly._

_Ginny smiled maliciously into his eyes. "Deal."_

_Ginny had long ago lost her virginity. She originally lost it in Germany_ _to fair-haired, blue-eyed Franz. He hadn't been the last though. After him came the Chinese boy that helped her perfect her Mandarin, the Italian wizard who had shown her were the Advanced Transfiguration books were kept in the Library of Rome, the French wizard who showed her around Paris, and a few other people she Obliviated later. She wouldn't go as far as calling herself an expert, but she knew what she was doing, and Wilkes didn't._

_This was going to be fun.

* * *

_

I'm not ashamed of that. Why should I be? One thing I've learned about men; they remember the first time they had sex almost better than they remember what they have for breakfast. Hopefully, he would remember my name.

Wilkes grew up to be a Keeper for the Montrose Magpies. After playing with them for several seasons, he disappeared. I learned it was his family. They had all been loyal Death Eaters, and he hadn't been. It is sad, really, and he was a good person, as good as they come in Slytherin.

I had, by now, stopped thinking along the terms of good and bad though. As far as I was concerned, everyone was far less than trustworthy. Even Draco. I knew deep down he wouldn't betray me, at least not until the very last. But a person can only be betrayed so many times...

The school left for the holidays. The only people staying were Harry, Ron, Hermione, two studious Ravenclaws, and me. I much preferred this to two years before when people wanted to hang around because of Beauxbatons' and Durmstrang's students. The holidays were the best and worst times of my life. The best because I was alone, truly, in my common room. The worst because I had to be reminded every day of Happy fucking Christmas.

I refused to come up into the castle for any reason whatsoever, including meals and "festivities." Pfft, stupid Christmas. Besides, I was planning, planning for my masterpiece. I had done a miniature sketch of it on several pieces of paper, trying to decide where I wanted to put everything. I had planned it to the last possible second. It would be painted like a mural on the large outside wall of the castle, the one that faced the lake. I would begin painting the night before the students returned and make sure to find something with which to keep Filch and Mrs. Norris busy. Then I would sneak into the dungeons and act just as surprised as everyone else; no one really needed to know who did it.

The second to last day of break, my plans swung into motion...

* * *

_The hardest part about transfiguring paint was running out of things to transfigure it from. She could probably start working on dust if she became desperate, but that made things unnecessarily hard. She would have the same problem when it came to the paintbrushes. But she'd worry about that later._

_Right now, Ginny had to find someone or something to distract Filch. She had thought about numerous decoys, but if worse came to worst, she could always try Harry. Ginny hoped it wouldn't come to that. Her plan, for now, was to use a Never-Ending Banishing Charm. It would move an object around forever or until the charm was lifted. Filch couldn't lift it because he was a Squib. So if she banished a bell or something, he would follow the little bastard around all night. Sure, he would be bitchy about it the next day, but that was the price to pay for her art._

_Soon it was eleven p.m., about the time her plan would begin. She would have to use a Summoning Charm to get her supplies to her outside; it was too risky to make trips and carry them herself. She had exactly ten hours till the students arrived on the campus; she would have to work quickly and efficiently; there was no room for error._

_Ginny slipped out of her room, leaving her door open, as well as the statue door, so she could summon her paints and paintbrushes more easily. As soon as she reached the fourth floor, she released the bell saying, "_Anduvia_!" Then she sprinted as fast as she could outside._

_It was chilly, and there was a bit of wind, though this was a good thing because she wouldn't have to use as many Drying Charms while she worked. "Accio paint! _Accio _paintbrush! _Accio! Accio! Accio!" _she called as loud as she dared._

_Not two minutes later, all her utensils were by her side. "Damn," she said quietly, "I almost forgot! _Accio _broom!"_ _It came flying to her, and Ginny sighed in relief._

"_Where, where, where...where should I start? Top or bottom? Left or right? Middle or edges?" she said quietly.

* * *

_

So I talk to myself when I paint. You wanna fight? I didn't think so.

* * *

_So Ginny hopped on her broom, flying and hovering in the middle of the huge wall. This was going to be one hell of a mural. She pointed her wand at her painting utensils and said, "_Wingardium Leviosa!" _It all rose to meet her in the air. "_Accio _red!" she called._

_It began.

* * *

_

I don't think I've ever worked so hard on one single thing in my whole life...well, that is a lie. But at the time, it felt like the hardest thing I'd ever done. I now know what Michelangelo felt like painting the Sistine Chapel. Except it didn't take for like ever and paint wasn't dripping in my eyes and I wasn't lying on my back the whole time. Okay, so I didn't really know how he felt, but I almost did.

The first few hours or so, things went more or less on schedule. I had the main portion of the painting done by one a.m., and around two I was beginning my work around my "second ring."

I may as well describe it to you. How else are you going know what it looks like? Let's see; it doesn't move. I decided against that from the beginning. I don't know the fool that thought that one up; I suppose they thought they were being terribly clever. It's a disgrace when your paintings talk to you. I can settle with wind moving hair or fields, but when your painting leaves its portrait altogether, it just isn't art anymore. That is why I admire Muggle artists. They can make it look like it is moving without it actually moving. They can inspire emotion without the painting sobbing on you while you're looking at it. It can have beauty so deep and primal wizards haven't even breached its depths.

Merlin, I love Van Gogh's _Starry Night_. I love Gauguin, Claude Monet, Albrecht Dürer! Ah, if only I had enough time to name them all! Merlin, I love them. I would do just about anything to meet Frida Calo or Donatello or Titan or Salvador Dali. They just saw things differently than other people; they were like a different race of people. They were neither Muggle nor wizard, neither human nor animal. Their minds worked in ways the world couldn't imagine, bent reality to their bidding.

Experiencing Shijin's ring helped me a lot in this, more than it usually did, at any rate. I had never painted a mural; it was frightening to say the least. I wanted it to be perfect. I wanted it to make people feel for me all the things they couldn't or wouldn't. I wanted them to taste what I felt too, if even just a bit.

I poured all my pain into that painting. I poured all the happiness I might have felt, and all the sadness I felt because of it. I poured all the shame and chaos in my life into that painting. I poured frustration into it, too. But last, I poured the hope of salvation in it. Yes, I still desired salvation from the life I lived. It wasn't easy giving my soul up again and then putting it on display for the entire school. Great things are never easy; that is just the way of it.

In the center were myself and my Soul Animal, my happy place. I had, by then, conjured it many times. McGonagall said we needed to get to know each other, and by interacting with it, we could better become one. The thing I excluded was my face. There was only my hair, shielding my features while I buried my nose in the panther's fur, as if trying to find protection from my dark friend.

That was in my center ring. On my second ring was a dragon, a guardian beast for my insecurities. I realize now it was Draco guarding me. Who knew it ran so thick?

The third ring was the outside world. It was an expression of Hogwarts at first, dementors, ghosts, Quidditch, the four house animals, the Whomping Willow, suggestions of events long forgotten or long from being forgotten in the castle's hallowed halls.

On the outermost ring was the outside world. Life outside Hogwarts was raging. Task forces of Aurors roamed the streets, Death Eaters slunk around the edges, and the common man, Muggle and wizard alike, was caught in between. The painting was christened with the figures of Dumbledore and a knight in green holding the forces of evil at bay; Voldemort and Grindelwald in all their dark glory.

* * *

_It was five in the morning, and Ginny was perfecting Dumbledore. He needed to be angrier. It was hard because she had only seen him angry...twice...yes, twice. When the dementors had entered the school in her second year and when he had realized "Moody" was a traitor._

_She was almost done, just this last shadow of darkness. She was so tired. The mural had soaked all the life out of her. Sometimes she felt like this when she finished a painting, but on a smaller scale. The pain she felt over something disappeared after she painted it. She had just painted something so grand it took all of the emotions she had piled up over the years to finish it.

* * *

_

And it almost was; finished, I mean.

* * *

_Ginny floated to the ground. It was complete. The sun was rising, but she was too tired to care. "_Finite Incantatum!" _she said, ending the Levitating Charm she had put on the paint. She looked down on her black robes and saw they were spotted with paint and basically ruined. Then she looked up at her painting. She was in awe. How could she deny this? How could she leave this anonymous? It would be hiding from herself if she didn't sign it. It would be rejecting her soul were she not to even dare to initial it. Hell, why stop at initials?_

_She took her finest brush and walked to the bottom right side of the mural and signed her name. "Ginevra M. Weasley."_

_Then she yawned deeply and leaned against the side of the building, just to the right of her mural. She was so tired. Ten minutes and she would clean up and go down to her dormitories. She needed a ten minute power nap; then she would leave._

_She closed her eyes, and her paintbrush dropped from her fingers. She wasn't going to be cleaning up. She wasn't going to be going back to her dormitory. She was staying right there with her brain child._

_Sleep took her, and she dreamed. They were happy dreams, kind of. They were pleasant, at least. She was a mother. She was a sister. She was a grandmother. She was an aunt. She had a husband. She had a lover. She had a friend. She was happy._

_But Ginny couldn't see the faces. They were there; she just wasn't allowed access. But she heard them. They were talking about the past and the good old days. She frowned. She should know these people._

_Then the voices grew louder and louder. They were talking, but she couldn't hear about what; they were muffled and distant. As Ginny began to wake, they became clearer and more distinct._

Oh...shit. That isn't a dream, _Ginny thought drowsily._

_Dreading opening her eyes, Ginny did and saw someone push through the crowd of people. It was Draco. She sat up slowly and a bit apprehensively. He crouched down beside her and said, "Did you do this, Ginevra?"_

_She nodded her head, looking around at her fellow classmen as they stared at her mural. "I meant to leave before they came, damn it!" she hissed._

_He looked up at it and said, "It's good."_

"_Thanks," she said distractedly; distractedly because there were more people pushing through the crowd: Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape._

_McGonagall gasped loudly and clutched her chest. Snape looked at it, his eyes wide and his jaw working up and down. Dumbledore viewed it as though it was mere child's finger art, but his eyes betrayed he was thinking something different._

_Her classmen were all gawking, either in shock that it was so good and awe inspiring or wondering who had enough guts to "graffiti" the walls of Hogwarts._

_She smiled up at Draco and grabbed his left arm to pull her up. He flinched and brought it back. She frowned in question._

"_I got cut over the holidays," he said smoothly._

_Ginny nodded and took his extended right hand to help her up. She looked at him suspiciously, but her attention was brought elsewhere. Dumbledore was watching her intently, his blue eyes fixed on her and pinning her in place as he walked towards her._

"_Miss Weasley," he said in a kindly voice. "Follow me please."_

_Ginny nodded emotionlessly and did so. Her feet felt like lead as she gave one last look at Draco and then started off after the headmaster. As she was walking through the crowds, a spark of green caught her eye. She met the green flash head on and was assaulted with the gaze of the Boy Who Lived. His eyes betrayed everything. She could tell by looking at him he loved the mural. She could tell it brought up feelings in him. _Good_, she thought, _may he drown in them. _She turned her head coldly and resumed her march after Dumbledore._

_Dumbledore motioned for her to sit in a chair across from him. He looked at her for a long moment before he began. "Do you know why I brought you here?"_

"_I put graffiti on the walls of the castle," she answered in a level voice._

_He shook his head solemnly. "That may be some of it, but that is definitely not the only reason. The events you depict on your mural...they...haven't come to be."_

_Ginny frowned. "What do you mean 'they haven't come to be'? I made them up."_

"_Not exactly._ _The Green Knight, what do you know of him?" Dumbledore asked seriously._

Oh, shit, _Ginny thought. _How the hell does he know?

"_You know," a small voice in her head said, "there is no time like the present to come clean..."_

I'm not supposed to tell –

_"– about your rings and your mission. No one ever said anything about the Green Knight or the Dark One," the voice concluded. "You don't even have to tell him how you know. You read it in a book."_

That is a lie. He'll see though it.

_"You heard it in passing then."_

_"He is part of a prophesy laid down by an Egyptian seer by the name of Reonet," Ginny answered._

_Dumbledore nodded. "Do you know the other components of the prophesy?"_

_"The Dark One, the one the Green Knight will defeat," Ginny answered, still truthful._

_Dumbledore nodded again and said, "There is a third member of this prophesy. A Virgin Of Light."_

_Ginny knew correcting his 'Of' would reveal she knew more than she was letting on, so she stayed her tongue._

_"Harry has told me of dreams, odd dreams he has about you and Voldemort," Dumbledore continued._

_"He's told me," Ginny said._

_"Do you know what else he dreams of?"_

_"I never claimed to know ALL. I see what I see," Ginny answered._

_Dumbledore nodded, and his lips formed a slim smile. "Of course. Let me tell you. He has been visited by several people, each of them teaching him different things. Gawain the Green, Ramses the Fifth, Musashi of Japan, Haimer of the Pacific Islands, a canoe maker and warrior, Billy the Kid, an American outlaw, and a mysterious 'frozen man' of the Antarctic by the name of Eösar. He says these people train him in swordplay and magic in his dreams. He says they've told him of a prophesy that involves a Virgin Of Light and a Dark One. He says the dreams have been coming since his fifth year. What do you have to say about this?"_

_"Have you had him looked at?" Ginny said dryly._

_Dumbledore frowned. "I will tell you what I have to say about it, and then you can decide if you want a try. I say that Voldemort is the Dark One, Harry is the Green Knight, and you are the Virgin Of Light. I say you've been getting training, as well. I say you have been learning things that will help you in the Final _ _Battle__. I also say that it takes you a different way to learn than Harry and that is why you bring more attention to yourself. Now, what do you say?"_

_"I say maybe you ought to get looked at, as well," Ginny replied coldly. "I say it is none of your damn business, as you don't play any part in the prophesy. I say it is time you left me alone. That is what I say."_

_"That is where you'd be wrong, Miss Weasley," he said, a small smile playing on his lips. "For you see, just as there are multiple candidates for the Virgin Of Light, there are multiple candidates for the Green Knight. I was one of the candidates. Just as Voldemort is a candidate for the Dark One, Grindelwald once held that position. But I defeated him, and he could progress no further. I lost my title as Green Knight, for I never truly was; I was a pawn to make sure that the Paths of Time were followed correctly. But I have a feeling you and Harry are not mere pawns. I have a feeling you are the real thing, the aforementioned people in Reonet's prophesy. This event that will turn the tides of time lies on your shoulders and Harry's. Not mine, not Grindelwald's."_

_Ginny was quiet for a while. Should she tell him? Should she reveal all she learned? Should she trust him after he deceived her the previous year? How was she to know he wasn't trying to trick her onto the seat at _ _Delphi__ again? What if he was lying to her?_

_"I'm afraid I don't know what you are talking about, Headmaster," she said. She felt dead inside as she did it. A flat out lie. He knew it. She knew it. A passerby on the streets would have known it. But Ginny wasn't going to budge. Ginny was going to stay alone on her pedestal of righteousness and ignore the mortals below. "I'm feeling a bit tired; I think I'll leave now."_

_Ginny stood up numbly. Then she walked out of the headmaster's office and down to her dungeons.

* * *

_

"A," and I quote, "flat out lie." I had lied to the headmaster. How many people do you think do that and don't feel just torn up inside? Well, you now know one. I got over my initial feeling of deceit and moved right along to well-he-deserved-it-ville. He deserved it. He lied to me. He deceived me. He hurt me. He tried to get me to sit at Delphi and waste my life. As far as I was concerned, Dumbledore could suck it. I'm not a person you use. I'm not a person you make your pawn. I'm my own damn person. The only reason Draco can is I let him in exchange for protection. Plus, we are friends of a sort.

But the weirdness didn't end there. Oh, no. It continued.

* * *

_Ginny walked into her room to find Draco already lying lazily on her bed. She looked at the clock on the wall. "I was in there a while," she said briskly. "What do you say to a quick lunch?"_

_"I'm starved," he said in a drawl. He was going to be a bastard for a while. He always was after he got back from seeing his father. Lucius put something cold inside him, something inhuman. It was part of Lucius himself, Ginny had decided. It was something Lucius had learned from his father, and his father had learned from his father's father, and so on and so forth._

_Ginny changed into a school skirt and button up shirt before meeting Draco in the common room. There weren't many people. _Probably still looking at the mural_, Ginny thought._

_Thankfully, the Great Hall was almost as empty. Only a few disapproving Ravenclaws sat at their table, eating as they read. Draco and Ginny ate as they talked about their breaks. Draco was a bit shady at some points, and Ginny could tell he was hiding something. She decided to let him have his secrets; she had some from him in Galleons._

_"Did you at least have fun?" Ginny asked, taking a small drink of her pumpkin juice._

_"Fun?__ At one of my father's dinners? How quaint, Ginevra," he said with a cold laugh._

_Ginny rolled her eyes and said, "I suppose just everyone was there. Oh, do tell me about the ball, Draco! I want to know oh, so much!"_

_Taking the hint, Draco managed to look mildly sorry and said, "Well, it was rather dull. And I had to dance with Pansy. I swear the woman gets stupider every time I'm forced to speak with her."_

_"There is only so much you can expect," Ginny said calmly._

_As they were speaking, Harry, Hermione, and Ron came walking in. They looked over at Ginny and began talking in hushed voices._

_"Do you suppose subtlety is taught in the Gryffindor common room?" Draco asked snidely._

_"No," Ginny said absently. "Let's go. I have to stop at the library for a moment. Transfiguration stuff."_

_Draco nodded, and they left. Through the courtyard, Ginny could see most of the student body was still crowded around her mural. It made her smile that she could invoke such emotions from people. It gave her a sense of control._

_"What exactly are you looking for?" Draco said. "We've been in here two hours. You're starting to remind me of Granger."_

_Ginny turned to him and said seriously, "Don't say that. I'll be done soon. How about giving me ten minutes in the Restricted Section? I know how good you are at flattering Madam Pince into a blob of middle-aged ooze..."_

_"Stop," Draco said in monotone, "I'm blushing."_

_But he got up anyway and headed over to Madam Pince's desk. Ginny rushed into the Restricted Section. "You aren't supposed to be here," a calm voice said from behind a bookshelf. Through the books, she saw a pair of big, brown eyes._

_"I need some information," she answered. She hadn't even seen Hermione come in._

_"That book is for people trying to become an Animagus," she commented._

_"That's why I'm reading it," Ginny retorted. Hermione always did have a way of telling people they were stupid._

_Hermione raised her eyebrows and turned back to her reading. Just as Ginny was going to leave, Hermione rounded the corner and pushed a book into her hands. "Nadia Turpin's _Guide to Modern Animagi Training for the Transfigurally Advanced_," Hermione said levelly. "McGonagall recommended it for me. I'm not training to be one, of course, but Harry is. He just can't read the material. Doesn't have it up here," she said, tapping her head._

_It was the book Ginny was looking for. "Thanks," Ginny said, taking the book and walking out of the Restricted Section._

_Draco said his goodbyes to Madam Pince and joined her in the hall. "Find it?"_

_"Yes," Ginny replied. As soon as they got into her rooms, she sat at her vanity and opened the book. Draco flopped on her bed and leaned against the headboard._

_Ginny read (though it looked as if she was merely flipping though pages), and Draco looked content to stay comfortable on her bed. There was silence for a long time, until Draco started up conversation._

_"I've never asked you before," he said. "But who will win?"_

_"Win what?" Ginny asked, flipping though the pages of her book._

_"The Final _ _Battle__. I know you can see the future. I just want to know."_

_Ginny didn't even bother looking up. "I can't see that. The future is hard to read. It always moves. Lots of things are set around seemingly meaningless events. Those events determine the big ones and are the only ones set in stone. Who wins the Final _ _Battle__ isn't one of those events, Draco."_

_Draco was silent for a long time before he said, "If, hypothetically, Voldemort is defeated and all goes right for Dumbledore, what will happen to the Death Eaters?"_

_Ginny frowned into her book and turned in her seat to look at him. "The same thing that has always happened I suppose. They'll be given trials and sent to Azkaban, or given the Dementor's Kiss, or lose their land and money, or something. I don't suppose they'll be too easy on them because they'll be able to prove things better now. Why?"_

_"Nothing," he said quickly. Ginny looked at him hard then decided against questioning him and turned back to her book._

_A long time passed before he spoke again. "What do you suppose they'll do to a Death Eater who turns himself in?"_

_This time Ginny came and sat down on the bed across from him. "Dumbledore is a forgiving sort. I suppose he'll give you Snape's spot when he dies."_

_Draco blanched. "How'd – don't – I mean, how'd you guess?"_

_Ginny looked at him kindly. "You were kind of asking for it do be discovered, dear Draco."_

_Draco looked away from her, as if he didn't deserve to be in her presence. "It makes me sick," he said in a low voice. "What they did. They don't give you a choice really. Die or get the mark. And it hurts, too. He doesn't just burn in into your skin, _ _Virginia__; he burns it into your soul. It makes me sick looking at it. I puked when it got burned on my arm...well, afterwards anyway. It is putrid and vile; I can't even look at it anymore. And the worst part is I did it willingly. I begged for it from him. He was there in all his monstrous glory. And when he was done, he laughed. And now I want to turn back, but he'll know if I do, just like he knows Snape has. He plays with Snape. Feeds him false information now and then just for fun. I can't turn back because he'll hunt me down and kill me; I'm not nearly as amusing as Snape. I begged for it, Ginevra. Naked and on my knees, I begged for it. And now I regret it."_

_There were tears in his eyes; Ginny felt a sudden pang of pity for him. Slowly, she reached over to his left forearm and rolled up his sleeve a bit. He looked away, grimacing and looking like he might gag._

_"There now," she said in a soft voice, all the while holding his hand and massaging his wrist, "it isn't so bad."_

_"It's repulsive," Draco said in a weak voice. It made Ginny uncomfortable because Draco wasn't weak. Draco was strong. Draco was her protector, her guard, her friend. If the world were to end tomorrow and everything were to be for naught, Draco would be there standing next to her. It was her job to fix him, to mend him. She had to repay him in some way. "I'm repulsive," he continued._

_Ginny took his palm and kissed it lightly. "You're not repulsive, Draco."_

_He looked at her sharply, his gray eyes keen despite being clouded with tears. But Ginny remained calm. She kissed his palm again and met his eyes fearlessly. Then she put his hand on her shoulder and leaned in to kiss him. His lips were wet and salty from tears, and he didn't respond right away because of them. He probably thought she was doing this out of pity. "Not out of pity," she reassured him, reading his mind. And he kissed her back. He pulled her on top of him and began lifting her shirt over her head._

_He was controlled as he ever was, Ginny noticed. The shock of the mark hadn't totally addled him. She bent down to kiss his neck, enjoying the soothing smell of Draco's cologne and savoring his pale, smooth skin under her lips._

_"Should we –"_

_But Ginny cut him off by kissing his lips, and she never heard another protest out of him.

* * *

_

You may say, "That is sick and wrong."

To that I say, "Yeah, well wholesome goodness can suck it."

It isn't all good and right in the real world. It wasn't all fair and honest outside of Hogwarts. But I'll let you in on a little secret; it isn't all sunshine and daisies inside Hogwarts either. "Shit happens," as the Muggle movie "Forrest Gump" so eloquently puts it. Shit happens, and it'll happen to you; just you wait.

But I don't think I made a mistake. In fact, I did end up healing him, if you want to know. And after that, we were closer; closer than friends, but not lovers. Both of us had forgotten love long ago; Draco while he was still in the crib, and I when I was Sorted. We shared something no one else did. We shared the chilling numbness in our chests. We shared the black hole that would have been our hearts. We shared the pain that came with it. For all intents and purposes, we shared a soul. We would have been the traditional "soul mates" if even one of us knew how to love another person properly. We were made for each other but made to be alone at the same time. It was very confusing for me then. I think now that had one of us been warmer, we would have been able to burn through the other's ice, and we would have been together. But it wasn't meant to be.

You're wondering what happened afterwards. You are wondering about the "drama," I'm sure. Well, here it goes...sorry if it isn't soap opera enough for you...

* * *

_Ginny woke first and looked at the clock on the wall. It was nearly eleven. She tried to move, but Draco was holding her too tightly, like a child would hang onto their favorite doll or blanket. He had buried his face in the crook between her shoulder and neck and was holding her close as though he would never let go._

_Ginny raised her hand to stroke his hair and found it was very soft, very fine. Had she never met him and never seen him like anything but this, she would have been convinced he was an angel. He looked so peaceful, so content, not snotty or stuck-up as he normally was. _But were he an angel,_ Ginny reflected, _he wouldn't be my friend; he wouldn't be my Draco.

_She decided not to wake him; he could hold her as long as he needed. But as soon as she fell asleep, she was awakened again by Draco moving around, moving out of the bed. She yawned lazily and said, "Where are you going?"_

_"Ginevra?" he asked. He sounded confused. Ginny lit the lamp by her bed._

_"Of course, who did you think it was?" she asked lightly._

_"I thought...dream...I thought you were Pansy, and I had been dreaming. I should have known; you're a much better lover than she is," he said, still standing near the door._

_"Not too high a compliment, but it will do," Ginny said. "Now come back to bed; you were keeping my feet warm."_

_Draco smirked, said, "I'll be back," and ducked out of the room, throwing his pants on quickly._

_Ginny got out of bed and began looking for her shirt but only found Draco's and decided it would do. Just as she had buttoned the fourth button, Draco walked back in with a package, not huge, but definitely large enough to hold about seven textbooks. Ginny eyed it curiously and watched as Draco smirked and put it on the bed. "What is it?" Ginny asked suspiciously._

_Draco sat on the bed and rolled his eyes. "Most people open the package and see for themselves."_

_Ginny unwrapped the bow slowly, taking care not to rip the wrapping too badly. When she reached the box and took off the lid, her eyes lit. More painting supplies than she could have wished for. Oils, pastels, water colors, charcoal, sketching paper, a thousand different bushes, sketching pencils, and every other material she could have dreamed to work with, and it was all at her disposal. Her fingers itched just looking at it._

_"I hijacked one of your paintings and took it home with me. I showed it to my father, and he wants to hire you. You'd stay with us over the summer and 'preserve the family in history' or something like that. He said this before he even knew who you were, Ginevra," Draco said evenly._

_Ginny's eyes met his, and she looked into them somberly. "He said he would pay any amount you named. He is something of an art critic himself and says he'd like you to do a series for him. Take this seriously, Ginevra; this is the real thing. My father doesn't throw around suggestions like this. He thoroughly expects you to come to Malfoy Estate this summer."_

_"Which painting did he see?" Ginny asked._

_"_Eyes_," Draco said after a moment. It was the one with her and her Soul Animal, displaying their identical eyes._

_"The nude?" she asked in disbelief._

_He nodded. Then he put the top back on the box. "Think about it." Then he turned the light off and lay down next to her. Ginny stayed awake for a long time.

* * *

_

It was unimaginable. A Weasley in Malfoy Estate? It was almost incomprehensible. But it would get me somewhere. It would get me one step closer to the acclaim I'd always wanted, closer to the recognition and individuality I needed and deserved. Damn straight I wanted to! I'd be mad not to. It was a big step for me; I've always said so. It took me a lot of new places.

* * *

_It seemed like she had just laid her head down on the pillow, and then it was finals, and she was packing to leave. Had it been so long ago she was doing this for the first time? _No, not really_, she decided. She was still young, but now she was older, much older than she had been when she entered the hallowed halls of the castle._

_She sat next to Draco the next day at Leaving Feast. She had finished top of class as expected. She was so close to being an Animagus she could almost taste it. She was going to live at Malfoy Estate for the summer and paint. She was on her way to living her dream...wasn't she? It made her mad to admit it, but she was still haunted by those green eyes._

_She turned her head from him and talked to Draco. She had become closer with him for the last few months, a friends with benefits sort of relationship. They enjoyed each other intellectually and sexually, and that was about it. The connection ended there._

_She was riding on the train and couldn't believe the year had ended so quickly. She couldn't believe it had ended without a major battle or harrowing escape by the Boy Wonder. She couldn't believe that, in one short week, she would be back on a train and riding to Malfoy Estate. It was true; good things came to those who waited._

_Draco sat across from her and slept. Ginny did a rough sketch of him out of boredom. She could live like this; she could get used to this. Everything was going to be perfect.

* * *

_

"Everything was going to be perfect." Merlin, what fairy tale was I living in? Had I ever been so naïve? Had I ever said something so stupid? Had I ever been so _dumb_? Apparently so. I was walking right into the belly of the snake. I was willingly entering the home of the Serpent God himself. Merlin...


	9. Year Six, Part One, Lost

**CHAPTER NINE: Year Six, Part One, Lost**

"The mysterious is always attractive. People will always follow a veil."

– Bede Jarrett (1881 - 1934)

* * *

_"There is no way you can stop me," Ginny said calmly as she ate her dinner. She had chosen tonight as the night to tell her parents. The only bad thing about it was they were going to make it harder for her. And Harry was there. He was staying the whole summer. The whole summer and Ginny would be free of him. It was just one more plus for her as far as she was concerned. Oh, but Harry was there now, listening to that exact conversation and every second looking like he would burst. He looked similar to all of her siblings and parents. The whole Weasley clan was there: Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, and Ron. It was hell._

_Her father was the only one who seemed to be taking it well at all. "And when will you be leaving?" he asked._

_"You're going to let her do this?" Ron said, finally exploding._

_"I trust my daughter," he said calmly. "And I have seen her artwork. It is very good. The pictures the _Daily Prophet _took of her mural at Hogwarts were in color, a rare compliment for any artist. If she thinks she is old enough to earn money for herself, she is damn well old enough to make her own decisions."_

_Ginny's mother boiled at this. Her face became all red, as if she were going to explode right then and there. Something held her back, and she served another helping of potatoes to Charlie, who was looking at Ginny curiously. "The dragon I thought was the best part. Very realistic, but more majestic than most people see them."_

_Ginny smiled at this compliment, scooted back from the table and crossed her legs very properly. "Thank you, Charlie. I'll be leaving within the week."_

_Then she got up from the table and made her way to her room. She had planned it while she was on the train ride home. She would go to Gringotts and collect the money she had in her vault; after the numbers Draco was throwing around, she wouldn't need to worry about money for a while. She would buy some nice clothes, some supplies she might need: an easel, a few extra sketch pads, more paints, and anything else she thought might be of value. Then she would head to King's Cross and travel the Muggle way to the North Riding of Yorkshire, where Malfoy Estate was. She would have to take everything with her, as she didn't expect to come home before the start of term._

_"Just couldn't wait to get out of here, could you?" a hard voice asked from behind her. Ginny straightened but didn't turn around. It was Harry, of course. "I would give anything to have a family that loved me as much as yours loves you."_

_"You have pretty low standards then," she said coldly as she began organizing her sketches and putting them in her trunk._

_"What is wrong with you?" he asked. "How can you willingly go there? Maybe your family is scared of you; you've managed to push them away, but you haven't managed to push me away."_

_Ginny wheeled on him. "You were never close enough to push," she said in a harsh voice._

_"Oh yes, I was," Harry countered. "Isn't that why you are leaving? Scared you might feel something below that icy exterior? Scared you might find your heart? Scared you might fall in love?"_

_"Scared I won't love you back?" she retorted. "What gives you the right to come in here and tell me what I'm scared of, Harry Potter? Who the hell do you think you are to have that power over me? Do you think yourself a god? Do you think you are so far above people they will bend to your will because you were the Boy Who Bloody Lived? Newsflash, Harry, _I _didn't. And I don't care. And if I _had _managed to survive, I sure as hell wouldn't act like you. Maybe you aren't touched by Tom's evil, but the rest of the bloody world is."_

_Harry pulled back his dark hair and pointed at his scar. "Me? Me not touched by Voldemort's evil? Do you know how many times I've faced him? Who I had to see dead to do it? And I'm not touched? You had a bloody diary!"_

_"And it took my soul. I don't see you walking around a soulless wonder. I see you walking around like you own the bloody world. I'm trying to make something of myself, and damn you to hell if you get in my way, Harry!"_

_"Oh, I won't get in your way. Please, be my guest. Walk right into Voldemort's traps. Set yourself up for more pain and disappointment and betrayal and hurt. Be my fucking, bloody guest!"_

_"And you would know all about that, wouldn't you! I mean, you've been betrayed so many times. You've been deserted by your family and friends. You've been misled by the people you were supposed to trust. You've been through it all, haven't you, Harry? Why don't you admit it? You can't stand to see me with Draco, and that is the only reason you are doing this! If it weren't about you and him and your bloody pride, you wouldn't be in this room right now trying to convince me otherwise. It has never been about protecting me or loving me or anything about me! It has been pride and hatred and everything you feel towards Draco. You hate him because of me, and you love me because of him!"_

_Harry looked stricken. He looked as though a person had just stabbed him in the gut and turned the blade. Ginny continued though. "You never loved me. You were in love with the idea of being in love with me. Everything was about playing the knight in shining armor. Everything was about getting even with Draco. It wasn't about anything you felt towards me. It wasn't about love; it was about jealousy."_

_Ginny took deep labored breaths, and her face turned softer. "Harry, you've made a huge mistake. You've been in love with a person who doesn't have the capacity to love you back. Not only that, you were never in love with her. It was just the idea, Harry, just the idea, and it was fueled by Draco. It was imagined by him to hurt you, so I would say this to you, so I would break your heart and break your spirit. That is what he's done, Harry. I've only just now realized it._

_"So go away, Harry. Lick your wounds and your pride. Then fall in love with someone else, someone you deserve. I can't love you, Harry; I never will. I'm too far gone, too far lost, too far from human to give you what you deserve. Grow up and get married and have a whole bunch of little Harrys. You'll be happy and forget all about me and the foolish notion of loving me. I'm doomed, Harry, doomed to sit and watch as those I once knew and loved go on to find happiness and never get to taste it myself. I only say this because it is true, Harry. I only say this because it is what I want now. So leave. Leave and never come back."_

_Ginny was on the verge of crying, on the verge of letting the walls down. But they held. Harry's face was blank and broken. Draco's plan had worked; it was a shame he wasn't here to see it. Harry's eyes didn't shine. Harry's body didn't move. Ginny licked her lips and looked at him, silently pleading with him to leave._

_And then something happened that Ginny did not expect. With no warning, Harry's face became a determined frown. "You are wrong," he finally said. "I know what love is; I've realized it now. But I'll wait for you. Ginny, you and I will be together someday; you just wait."_

_Then Harry walked towards her swiftly, planted a burning kiss on her lips and left just as fast. Ginny's jaw worked up and down for a moment. Then she fell onto her bed and put her hand over her lips. They still burned.

* * *

_

"Heated?" you say.

"Oh yes, very," I reply. But there is a lot more than that. I have not even begun to shock you.

Let's just say, the week passed miserably, and I was more than happy to take leave of my family that Friday, a short week after coming home. I was more or less dulled by that conversation with Harry, and I welcomed the numbing sensation I got from Nysilia's ring. I knew I would have to be cold and beautiful to fit in at the Malfoy Estate. The way Draco described it, it was like a museum; very old, very beautiful, very cold. I liked the sound of it already.

I put Nefertiti's ring on as I rode the train to the North Riding of Yorkshire, having finished my shopping. I put on the nicest traveling dress I could, a simple green dress that went mid-thigh and had a coat. I put on my sunglasses as I stepped off the train. I think I was expecting dark storm clouds, ravens flying about, and generally more evilness.

In actuality, it was a very nice old house, Victorian in style and sitting by a small lake with gardens in the back. It was pleasant on the outside, like eye candy, but on the inside...

I think that was what all the beauty was for. Why go and advertise you are up to no good by having black, dreary scenery and ugly, old manors? The house was to distract from the truth. Just like the Deadly Nightshade, the Venus flytrap, and countless other plants, this house was meant to trick and deceive, to lead to death.

* * *

_"Ginevra!"_ _Draco said from the top of the stairs. She reached him and kissed him on the cheek in a distracted manner._

_"It's beautiful," Ginny said admiringly while pushing up her sunglasses. A servant came and took her easel and traveling bag, and she didn't even notice._

_"I assume they took your trunk at the front?" Draco asked._

_Ginny nodded and said, "Yes, they were very helpful."_

_"We would have met you at the station, but we just got here today ourselves; we've been staying in our other house. Things will be a bit hectic until the elves get things all sorted out," Draco explained, taking Ginny into the house. Had Ginny any less of a backbone, she would have run right out again. It made her think of dark things, darker and colder than dementors. Only by holding on tightly to Nysilia's ring was she calmed. She could now see why Draco was the way he was._

_"Miss Weasley," the cold voice said. She knew that voice. She would NEVER forget that voice. She would have to be strong; she would have to be very strong; she was in the presence of the devil now. "How wonderful you could make it!"_

_Ginny turned around and put on her most passive face. "Nice to see you again, Mr. Malfoy," she said with feigned pleasantness. It was a show. Everyone knew it was a show, and they played anyway. Thankfully Ginny was an excellent actress._

_The show was continued when Mrs. Malfoy entered and was so exceedingly polite and grossly sweet to Ginny, she felt she might drown if left alone with the disgusting, sniveling woman. She radiated stupidity and reminded Ginny of a prettier but no less rich Pansy Parkinson._

_But soon Ginny was allowed to "get cleaned up for dinner," and she followed Draco to her room, where they assumed the usual positions of her at a vanity and him on her bed._

_"You were close, Draco, but no deal," Ginny said as she finished explaining the interaction between herself and Harry. "He may be made of sterner stuff than you realized."_

_Draco_ _only looked mildly upset when he heard the news. "I'm just surprised he's lasted this long. I've been planning this damn thing since your first year. One thing to say about Gryffindors; they are durable."_

_Ginny stopped brushing her hair and turned to him. "I can't say more than I was an excellent person to choose. I almost was free of him. He's just so damn stubborn I can't shake him."_

_He shrugged and said, "So what do you want to do? Do you have any ideas?"_

_Ginny scoffed. "It's your scheme; you do your own damn dirty work. Let me rephrase that; you plan it, and let me do your own damn dirty work. I only want to know why."_

_"I hate him; isn't that enough?" he said in a bored tone._

_"Enough for the Ministry to crucify you._ _Enough to convince me, you wish," she said doubtfully._

_"Master Draco, Mistress Weasley, dinner is served," a small voice from her doorway said. The small creature hurried out before Ginny even saw it._

_Ginny stood and looked down at her black pant suit. "Is this okay? For dinner, I mean."_

_"Fine," Draco said, glancing back at her quickly._

_She followed him down the halls and into the elaborate and magnificent dining room. Chandelier...check. Grotesquely long table...check. Obscene amounts of silverware...check. Two snobbish parental units...check. It was pretty much everything she had imagined it would be. It was comfortably chilly, the candles lighting the room so there was no trace of shadow, and the servants making sure the seats were comfortable and whatnot._

_Ginny sat next to Draco, who was on the right hand side of his father, who sat at the head of the table. Ginny locked Mr. Malfoy's image in her mind to study it. He would have been devastatingly handsome...actually, he was, in an evil sort of way. His long, blonde hair didn't sit well with Ginny, though, and despite that it was his only physical flaw, it made him look too effeminate. Draco's mother was obviously there for show and had no other purpose than to be rich and beautiful. She was what Pansy was to Draco. Ginny wondered if Mr. Malfoy had a woman like Ginny. A concubine of a sort, intelligent and beautiful but not rich enough to marry the Malfoys. It was an interesting notion._

_"I would like to thank you for coming, Miss Weasley," Mr. Malfoy began. "It has been such a long time since we've seen any of Draco's friends; it is nice to see he hasn't fallen into a bad crowd."_

Just what the hell is he playing at!? _Ginny's mind screamed. _He must be trying to get something from me; none of this fits. He's trying to lull me into a sense of false security, so he can bend me to his will. That is the only thing that makes sense.

_"Yes," said the puppet, Mrs. Malfoy, "someone to keep him out of trouble."_

_She knew Draco had to be bursting with laughter, but he did a good job of holding it in. "Thank you," Ginny said, "I really do appreciate this opportunity to be of service to your family."_

_Mr. Malfoy nodded and then called for the food; it was served quickly. Ginny didn't know what half the forks and knives were for, so she copied Draco discreetly. She could barely eat some of the food; it was so rich and thick she thought she might be sick from it. But soon, the meal ended. There had only been a shadow of conversation during the meal; now the show really started._

_"Draco," Mr. Malfoy said as he put his napkin on the table. "Tell me, what news of school? We've not had enough time to have a real discussion."_

_"The school year was pleasant enough, though Slytherin isn't performing the way it should in sports or academics. I'm afraid Dumbledore's looseness has created a weaker Slytherin. I mean, we have a half-blood in the second year."_

_Mr. Malfoy nodded. "And what of your studies?"_

_"I passed all my classes with solid marks and am looking forward to Advanced Potions and Arithmancy. I'm confident I'll be able to get Head Boy this year, though I fear Granger will be Head Girl."_

_"We were so pleased when you made prefect, Draco," his mother simpered. "But are you sure that that dreadful Granger girl will get Head Girl? What about Pansy Parkinson? She has good marks."_

_Draco_ _looked as if he wanted to roll his eyes, but he said, "Granger's friends with Potter, Mother; of course she'll get it."_

_"She already has," Ginny said quietly. Everyone looked at her. "Her boyfriend is my brother; he's the president of her fan club, and she found out from McGonagall who Head Girl was. McGonagall always did favor her, and I'm unfortunate enough to study under McGonagall."_

_A fake smile crossed Mr. Malfoy's face, and he brought his full attention to her. "Yes, Draco's told me. Your Animagus training, correct? Your Soul Animal, it is the panther, is it not?"_

_Ginny nodded, and Mr. Malfoy continued. "And how are you doing in your studies, Miss Weasley?"_

_"I made top marks in my year for the fifth time last term, and I'm taking the Advanced Arithmancy class next year. If my scores say anything, I'll be named prefect for my year," she said calmly. They were testing her, and she knew it._

_"And Quidditch?_ _Draco tells me you are quite the Chaser and score most of the points for Slytherin," Mr. Malfoy said._

_"Yes, I'm the lead scorer for Slytherin, though I do have good support. Marcus Flint and Adam Dolohov play a solid game," she returned._

_"And you are also a talented artist," Mr. Malfoy said in a cool voice. "My, Miss Weasley, what don't you do?"_

_Not knowing how to answer this, Ginny simply smiled and stared him back in the face. She wasn't afraid of him. She wasn't afraid of anything._

_Lucius_ _changed the direction of conversation. "So what do you think of the house? Can you work with the color schemes to make them match your art?"_

_"I've not really seen much of the house," Ginny confessed._

_"Well," Lucius said, standing, "there is no time like the present. I'll take you on a tour, and you can see for yourself, Miss Weasley. And, Draco, I'd like you to meet me in the study in one hour."_

_Ginny stood, and Draco gave her a slight nod of his head for support. Ginny steeled herself; she would need to be as calm and collected as she could for this. It was a test. He wanted to get to know her. He wanted to see if he could use her. She wanted to seem useful but not willing to do whatever he said. Ginny knew he was dangerous and could kill her if he wanted. However, if she was useful, he might reconsider. Plus, if she got far enough inside, she might be able to get a shot at Tom._

_He was walking at a slow pace down one of the dim hallways. It was extravagant, but plain. There were many things Ginny could do with the place. It was like a painting itself; it was a toy to her. They soon entered a grand ballroom. It occurred to Ginny that this place must be very magical because there was no way this ballroom could fit in the house she saw._

_"I would like a portrait of every member of my family and then a family portrait in here. A few landscapes and classic paintings wouldn't be a bad idea either. What do you think?" he asked her._

_Ginny frowned and walked into the middle of the room. Shijin's ring was on her finger, and her creativity was running overload. "Statues...figurines...pottery...It needs more three dimensional objects, too. And a fountain, perhaps. Paintings should be hung high, above eyelevel by three to four feet. Looking up to pay homage...um, the chandelier needs to be higher," she said randomly. Then she straightened herself and said, "But it is your house. That's how I would do it if I wanted to make the portraits look important."_

_"That would work very well," Lucius said in a chilly, yet pleased, voice. "When did you decide to become an interior decorator? It is original. Most people want portraits at eye level."_

_"Feng Shui," Ginny said. "I studied it when I was learning Chinese. It's fascinating and accurate."_

_Lucius_ _nodded and said, "And why were you studying that?"_

_"Why do we study anything? It intrigued me, and I wanted to know," she replied simply._

_Lucius_ _just nodded again, and they continued to the next room. It was a grand dining room with a single, huge, decorative portrait of a man who looked like a Malfoy. Ginny guessed he was a dead one as he only roughly resembled Lucius and Draco. He had dark hair but the same cold, gray eyes._

_"This is my father, Diablo d'Malfoy. It is high time his portrait was removed from these estates and mine took its place. Though I would like the style to be the same," he said. Ginny couldn't tell, but from where she was standing, his voice sounded inundated with resentment. She wondered if Draco would sound like that in twenty years._

_Ginny nodded and followed him into the next room. It was a library, of a sort; almost like a study, but it had no desks, just books and scrolls. It was dark and old, not bright like the rest of the house._

_"I was hoping you could find something that would work with this room, nothing too spectacular," he said before passing to the next room._

_The amount of rooms seemed endless, but finally, they came to a lounge or drinking room. It was dark, darker than the library, and had high-backed chairs and a liquor cabinet. Ginny didn't like where this was going. He was going to question her seriously now. He was in a room he felt would intimidate her. He offered her a seat in one of the chairs in front of the fire. Ginny crossed her legs and put her hands on her knees, ready for anything he might say._

_But to tell the truth, she didn't really expect the conversation he chose. "What is your relationship with my son?"_

_Ginny raised an eyebrow in surprise and after a moment said, "As far as I know, we are strictly friends." It was the truth; they were just friends – friends that had occasional sex._

_He seemed to accept this and said, "And what are your motives for being his friend? Don't insult me, please. I know it isn't because you enjoy his company."_

_"That isn't entirely accurate. We happen to see eye to eye on a lot of topics. Though, if I had to chose a certain function for each of us in our friendship, I am the person he uses against Harry Potter, and in return he makes sure the other Slytherins keep well enough away from me," she explained. "If you are insinuating I am 'in it for the money,' you are sorely mistaken. I have alternate ways of making money when I need it."_

_It was Lucius' turn to raise an eyebrow. Ginny smirked at the way that had sounded. "No," she said humorously. "Not exactly. I'm a writer. I've won many Muggle and wizarding contests. I particularly enjoy writing social commentary."_

_"I see," he said. "And do you know what Draco thinks of you?"_

_Ginny scoffed. "I'm not naïve, Mr. Malfoy. He thinks I'm useful, beautiful, and intelligent: the perfect weapon to use against Gryffindors. He thinks I'm his pawn (though more a queen, if we are going to talk chess), something to use in his game with the Gryffindors. He pictures himself ready to checkmate Harry Potter and then show me around as a trophy."_

_At this, Lucius smiled a cold, distorted smile. "You seem to be very aware of your situation, Miss Weasley. I'd thought at first that old coot Dumbledore had made a hideous mistake accepting a Weasley in Slytherin; it seems I'm wrong. I just hope you don't have any silly notions of marriage into our family by Draco, for you don't always get what you want, and that you will never get."_

_"I wish only to leave this place someday and know I hurt more people than hurt me," Ginny said. "I have no 'silly notions of marriage' and would like for nothing more than to spend the rest of my days in a small house in the country writing and painting, until one day I die and everyone knows they've lost something. I have no flights of fancy, save that one day I will make my mark on the world then fade into the distance. But as you said, 'you don't always get what you want.' I have a feeling that won't be my fate."_

_"Odd dreams for a person your age," Lucius commented. "Odd dreams for anyone."_

_"Yes," Ginny said simply. She sat still as Lucius studied her. He had a similar, calculating gaze to Snape; it was just more evil and repulsive. It was really a mix between Snape's and Karkaroff's. That was what made Ginny think twice about him. She knew she was beautiful; everyone knew it, and she had no doubts he knew this too. She decided to take the offensive. "Mr. Malfoy, why am I here?"_

_His facial expression didn't change, and he replied evenly, "I invited you."_

_"Why?"_

_Mr. Malfoy looked at her long and hard and then stood and walked to the bar. He poured himself something but didn't offer Ginny anything. Ginny stayed silent while she watched him. He had a plan for her; she knew he did. It had something to do with using her against the Gryffindors, against Dumbledore. It had something to do with Draco...and Harry._

_"I'm going to be frank with you, Miss Weasley," he finally said. "I don't trust you; I don't trust anyone. But, as Draco has noticed, you are a perfect tool, the perfect 'queen,' as you put it. I can use you. Draco can use you. What do you want in return?"_

_Ginny thought about this. "I have no choice, do I?"_

_"As of now, you do."_

_Ginny closed her eyes for a long while. "What do you want me to do? I'm not a spy. I'm not a traitor, and I hate Tom with all I am. I hurt people; I give them pain. This is what I do. What could you possibly want from me?"_

_Lucius_ _was frowning. He swallowed what was left of his glass and said, "I want you to hurt a couple of people, if this is what you do. I want you to hurt them any way you can."_

_"Who?"_

_"Potter, for one._ _Snape, the traitor, Lupin, the disgusting abomination, and Black. Yes, I know of Black and his escape. I also know you know how to get in touch with them. In fact, you know a lot of things other people don't. For instance, you are something of an oracle. No doubt you know what fate would have in store for you were you to refuse. A life as an oracle, I'm told, isn't a nice one."_

_"Is that a threat?"_

_"A simple reminder._ _You could be very useful in the long run. As you know, the Malfoys marry for money, not love, not looks. Why else would I have married her? Why else would Draco be marrying that wretched Parkinson bitch? Money and power and influence, that is why. But as a sideshow attraction, Draco will have other uses for you, other uses he has probably already made clear or preformed –"_

_"Not that it is any of your business," she murmured._

_"Indeed, I have many eyes and ears in the castle. Don't think I'm ignorant of what happened at the last three school winter functions. Draco was particularly joyous about the one two years ago. I see a lot in Hogwarts, considering I no longer attend. But you do, and that is useful to me."_

_"Why would you tell me I'm useful? Why bother at all? Why not just threaten me or my family?"_

_"I've already threatened you with what you hate most, spending the rest of your life in Delphi," he said calmly. "I know that is what you would hate most to happen, and I can make it so easily. In days long before you or I were born, if a potential was found, they'd physically make the person sit on the chair and imprison them forever in the future. Don't think they've abolished that rule just yet, Miss Weasley."_

_"I would find a way out," Ginny said confidently._

_"No doubt you would," Lucius said dully into his glass. "But you have been given your options; what do you say?"_

_Ginny was silent. It was true. All these things were in his power to do. All she had to do was break some people. _Good people_, the almost dead lion grunted at her. She knew she had a job to do, though she didn't know what yet, something with the rings and the prophesy. And she didn't want to help Tom; never would she do that. But personal advancement...it was a big decision, not to be taken lightly. Breaking Harry would be no big deal. But Black, Lupin, and Snape? Impossible! They were thirty-five or older. She did have Hina's ring...but would it work like that? She could practice just to make sure. This was crazy! But she didn't want to be sent to Delphi; that would be worse than Azkaban. At least in Azkaban she could put on Nysilia's ring and retain herself that way. It was a big decision indeed. Sit at Delphi_ _or break a few hearts? Finally, Ginny's need to succeed drove her to the latter._

_"I'll do it."_

_Lucius' face twisted into something akin to a smile. "Good," he said. "Since that is cleared up, I'll tell you a few things about your mission. But first, I have a few assorted things to say. The only place out of limits is below the house. You shall have the top floor of the eastern wing and share it with Draco, or you may have another; I care not. Lastly, supper is served strictly at seven every night. Other meals, you are on your own. Oh, and on the sixteenth of July, we have Draco's birthday and invite people from around the world; you'll need to be aware of that and try to have some artwork I can display by then. As for the mission, you will be debriefed during the summer when I have more information. So unless there are any other questions..."_

_He stood, and Ginny followed suit. "Yes, one, actually," she said. "Do you have any sort of studio?"_

_"Yes, yes, Draco can show you that. Now, can you find your way back to your room? I have to meet Draco."_

_"Yes, thank you, Mr. Malfoy."_

_And then he left, and Ginny did a bit of exploring for herself.

* * *

_

I know what you are thinking, "Traitor, turncoat, liar!" Well, in a way, yes. But what do you want from me? I was staying alive. I was staying safe. Bite me.

I still hated Tom. But the way I figured it, I would be even closer to him. There is a reason they say keep your friends close and your enemies closer...it is because of people like me. Oh, I'd kill him all right. I had only one life (if you could call it that) to take, and that was Tom's.

* * *

_Living with the Malfoys was pleasantly chilly. Ginny's earliest suspicions of the intelligence level of Mrs. Malfoy seemed stunningly accurate. Ginny's earliest suspicions of Draco's outrageous pampering proved stunningly accurate. "Can we go to Paris_ _for the weekend?" "Can we take the yacht out? "I want the new Firebolt II!" "Can we go to the European Quidditch Finals?" Everything he wanted, everything he desired, was given him on a silver platter. It was mildly sick the way Mrs. Malfoy coddled him, though Lucius was much harsher, convinced he would "make a man out of Draco yet."_

_Ginny spent most of her time painting. She and Draco could usually be found out in the afternoon sun while Ginny painted and Draco lay lazy in the shade of a tree. It was like an endless dream those afternoons. It was like the happy memory she had always wanted._

_It wasn't three weeks into summer when the inevitable question arose. "What did you and my father talk about on the tour?"_

_Ginny put a finishing touch on her painting and then put down her brush. "He asked for sexual favors in exchange for money."_

_"Don't joke about that. He already has a mistress –"_

_"And you don't want him stealing yours, too?"_

_"Exactly._ _Now what were you talking about?"_

_Draco_ _and Ginny hadn't been sexually active during her visit yet, but she and Draco didn't really need that for their friendship to go on, so neither said anything until they felt like it. Just like in the school year, they would go to each other when they were bored. "He told me if I didn't help him, he'd send me to Delphi."_

_Draco, seemingly undisturbed by this, said, "What do you have to do?"_

_"Nothing serious, I just have to make a few people hurt, so they won't be able to focus clearly on what is going on around them. I'm also to try and divide them from each other," she replied, going back to her painting. It was one of the ones Lucius had requested, the family portrait. It was sufficiently dark and awe-inspiring. It made them look regal, like the Romanovs of Russia, the last tsar and tsarina, with Draco as a prince, or something like that. It was very serious and gave her shivers; it would be perfect._

_"Who?"_ _Draco asked curiously._

_"You won't like it. I know how protective you are of your things. Don't want anyone getting their filthy hands on me, eh?"_

_"Damn straight," Draco murmured under his breath. "I happen to like knowing people fear to touch you because of me. It gives fuel to my depleting self-esteem."_

_Ginny nodded and said, "Harry is foremost on the list."_

_"I don't even like him looking at you."_

_"I know. Then there are Snape, Lupin, and Black."_

_"Well, Lupin should be easy enough; he'll be back at Hogwarts this year. Snape'll be tough, and I don't know how the hell you are supposed to get at Black. Potter will break easy enough; we've been on him for years."_

_"I wouldn't underestimate him if I were you," Ginny said calmly. "I saw something I don't like in his eyes that time in my room. He's got something driving him, something...I don't know how to describe it. Do you think this painting needs more shadow?"_

_"A bit," Draco replied. "Have you a plan? I mean, how are you, a sixteen –"_

_"Soon to be sixteen."_

"–_year-old girl, supposed to seduce men twice your age? Much less get them distracted enough to fight with each other. Ginevra, you are beautiful, but can you pull this off?"_

_"With practice," Ginny replied. "Your father has already arranged a few occasions for me to practice, or so he calls it. Really, show a little faith. We all have our jobs in this."_

_"Since when were you part of this?"_ _Draco asked._

_"Since someone told me I was sitting at Delphi_ _if I didn't. Now let me paint, and don't worry about it. How did the campaign for the South Pacific and South America_ _trip go?"_

_"Father said he'd think about it. He has business with some Peruvian wizards, so he was more agreeable than the other trip suggestions."_

_Ginny nodded and went back to her painting._

_Time passed, and Ginny became more accustomed to life at the Malfoys. It was a quiet place, all in all. Not many people, so far as Ginny could tell, called on the Malfoys, and they seemed to live a distant, secluded life in their summer home. It would have been a sanctuary for Ginny were it not for the constant reminder of evil; the evil that lurked the halls of the estate in the form of Lucius Malfoy. She could feel him coming before she saw him; his aura was that strong._

_That is why she was unsettled when the darkly-clad character strode into the studio one morning sometime between eleven and twelve._

_"Miss Weasley," he said, "how are things progressing?"_

_"I've finished the paintings you requested for the ballroom and the dining room," she said, motioning with a paintbrush to the other room in which she kept her finished paintings. "And I ordered the statuettes you wanted for the ballroom; they should be arriving within the hour."_

_"Good, good," Lucius said. "And what are you working on now?"_

_"Something for the gallery, I think. It would go nicely with the other oils in the third room," Ginny said as she made light strokes on the canvas._

_"I'll get right to the point; you'll be given your first test tomorrow evening. A few of my Spanish relatives are coming for the weekend on vacation. My second cousin is about the age of Severus and of similar demeanor. Though you are in luck; he has a fetish for English redheads. Start small, as my father always said."_

_Ginny nodded and said, "Should I adopt an assumed name, or will he know my surname?"_

_"No, but tell me, do you speak Spanish or even Portuguese?"_

_"Fluently.__ Why?"_

_"It will be easier for you then; he likes intelligent women. You understand politics, am I correct?"_

_"Yes."_

_"Good, he will at least be intrigued with you."_

_"Has he a wife?"_

_"No. She died under mysterious circumstances. He has a seventeen-year-old son by the name of Diego. My cousin's name is Alexandre Carnicero. He is rich, arrogant, cold – a darker duplication of me. Do you need any other information?"_

_Ginny shook her head and returned to her work. Lucius left, and Ginny tried to decide how to go around doing this little training course. He said his cousin had a red fetish? Well, Ginny could do that easily. Shijin's ring said, "Red dress, long, red gloves, silk, rose in a bun, curves, not angles, elegant and flashy."_

_She could do that. She could make a dress that matched her hair. She was just uncomfortable in red. She was green, cool and damp. She wasn't a red, showy and bright. But tomorrow night, she would be. Ginny stopped where she was in her painting and decided to clean up a bit before meeting the delivery people. She would need to have the dining room prepared; the ballroom could wait another few weeks._

_After she finished the decorations, she made her dress. It was simple enough to do. She decided upon an elegant, red, silk dress that fit her tightly. It was long and flowed after it reached her waist. She wore long, red gloves that accented the paleness of her skin._

_The day of the dinner, Ginny put her hair in a low bun and pinned a great, red flower in it. After putting on her reddest lipstick, she looked herself over in the mirror and remembered to put on Chani and Hina's ring; he liked smart women. Ginny was about to make her way down to greet the guests when Draco appeared in her doorway._

_He smirked and said, "You look good in red. Diego won't be able to keep his hands off you; neither will Alexandre. Good luck, Ginevra. Now may a humble friend walk you down after the guests arrive?"_

_"We aren't going out to meet them?"_

_"No, we'll arrive later. Father says it will be harder for you if they see me as a threat. Of course, you'll be able to maneuver around that," he said chidingly._

_"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" she asked snidely._

_"Of course."_

_"Master Draco, Mistress Weasley, the guests have arrived," a small, gray house-elf said._

_"Three things," Draco said. "One, put these earrings on. Two, put this necklace on. Three, try not to walk like that around me, or I'll be forced to ravish you in the linen cupboard."_

_Ginny put on the ruby earrings and necklace obediently and took Draco's arm as he led her downstairs. As she walked downstairs, she felt something akin to disgust. She was putting herself on display again. _Anything to kill Tom_, she reminded herself._

_There were nine of them, and Ginny could easily pick out Diego and Alexandre; she had seen pictures. They were tall and dark with the same gray eyes Lucius and Draco had. They were a bit thicker built and more mysterious than their English counterparts because of their dark features. Ginny thought they were both very handsome, but both very dangerous._

_"Cousins," Lucius said as Ginny and Draco descended the stairs, "my son and his friend have finally arrived."_

_Ginny smiled coldly, and Draco released her as soon as they reached the small crowd of Spaniards. "This," Lucius said, "is Miss Ginevra Weasley, a friend of Draco's and the artist I told you about, Alexandre."_

_The older man eyed Ginny with intrigue and suspicion but took her gloved hand and said, _

_"Es un placer de reunirla, Señorita Weasley."_

_"No, es un placer de reunirlo, Señor Carnicero," she returned._

_"Ah, you speak Spanish!" he said with a laugh._

_"Fluently," she said, meeting his cold, gray eyes with ease. He seemed intrigued by this, too, but he said nothing more to her._

_The group moved to the dining room, and dinner commenced. Ginny was seated between Draco and Diego and across from Alexandre. Lucius sat at the head of the table with Alexandre to his left and Draco to his right. Most of the women were at the far side of the table; Mrs. Malfoy was speaking with the three women in the group of nine. She learned that the three elderly men were the "heads" of the Spanish branch of Malfoys and two of them had sons; _ _Salvador__ was the son of Mondaigo, and Alexandre was the son of Lazarus. The third older man was Horatio d'Malfoy and was the brother of Lucius' father, Diablo. The older woman sitting directly next to Narcissa was Horatio's wife. The other two were sisters, Graciela and Sofia; one was married to Lazarus and the other to Mondaigo. Salvador, Lucius, and Alexandre were all the same age, but Lucius and Alexandre were the only two with children. It was confusing, but Ginny figured it out._

_The only person who really bothered her was Diego. Every chance he got, he would brush up against her calf or reach for the same thing she did. He would always smile slyly, and Ginny would return with a cold one. He only stopped when Alexandre called him off with a glare._

_"So you are a painter, Miss Weasley?" Alexandre asked._

_"Yes," Ginny answered, making sure to lay the ring on heavy for effect. Too bad she couldn't control who she influenced because she suddenly felt the eyes of every male on her, and all were straining to keep their eyes honest. "That portrait of Mr. Malfoy is one of mine, as are the ones in the ballroom and a few in the library and study. I'm working on a line that will go in the gallery right now."_

_"I see," Alexandre said calmly. He seemed to be the only one resisting the effects of Hina's ring, because Draco was casting warning glances at Diego and had put his hand on her thigh under the table. "I'm not much of an art critic, but these, to me, are very good. Yet you are so young; how did you gain such a talent?"_

_"Just how everyone else gains a talent, Señor Carnicero, with practice and skill. If we've time later, I could show you some of my other works."_

_"I would love to see them," Diego said impatiently. His father glared at him, and Ginny smiled distantly. Oh, she had Alexandre all right. The only bad thing was she had every other male, too. She definitely needed practice with this ring._

_The conversation resumed, and only the (haunting and stimulating) memory of Ginny remained. When they had finished their dinner, Ginny rose and smiled at Draco before heading off after the women. She left just late enough so that, as she had expected, Alexandre stopped her._

_"Miss Weasley," he said, "I would deeply like to see some of your paintings, if it isn't too much trouble."_

_She smiled at him and said, "Of course not, Señor Carnicero. We could go to the ballroom, or the gallery, or even my studio. I have far more paintings in my studio than in the ballroom and gallery, however."_

_"That shall be fine, Miss Weasley. But you may call me Alexandre, please; Señor Carnicero is so formal."_

_"All right, Alexandre. But you must call me Ginevra, then," she bargained._

_"Of course," he said, taking her arm in his._

_Once they had entered the gallery, Ginny turned on the lights and turned on the full force of her ring, too. He would fall heavily into her trap, and she would reap the benefits; great sex, of course._

_"Your abstracts are so –"_

_"Hideous?" she supplied. "I meant them to be. I was aiming for social commentary but ended up with just the shock factor. I'm not really a supporter of the shock factor when it comes to art; it's too easy. I wanted to express ideas for political reform."_

_"So you want to be a politician, as well?" he asked with interest. Ginny doubted he even knew how close he was to her, nor where his eyes wandered._

_"No," she said with a light laugh. "I'd rather just sit in a comfortable room and paint all day long, go outside every once in a while and paint landscapes. Travel a bit. I'm not sure if there is an occupation like that, though. Ultimately, if I were to be some sort of politician, I would want to be behind the scenes, so to speak."_

_Alexandre nodded his head. Ginny could tell he wanted her; it was in his stance, his very aura. She could feel his need from there, and she suspected it was from the ring. _Finishing move, Gin,_ she said to herself._

_"Would you mind if I took off my gloves? I don't want to ruin them by handling my paintings," she said._

_"No! No, of course not," he answered quickly. Ginny smiled and pulled them off slowly then turned to put them on her desk. Before she could turn around again, a soft hand ran up and down her arm; it would have made her shiver had she not been expecting it. She licked her lips and tried to hold back a smirk._

_"Perfect," he whispered into her ear, "that is what you are."_

_He bent down to kiss her neck softly, running his fingers across her clavicle bone and over her thinly-chained necklace. Ginny sighed and leaned back into him, making sure to make sounds in the right places and generally try to enjoy the experience. She would have to stop it, if he didn't, and go into a room with a bed; she would not have sex in this room. Slowly, Ginny licked her lips and turned around to face the dark-featured Alexandre. He looked at her for a long while; Ginny thought he was trying to decide why he was doing what he was doing._

_"If we are going to go on," Ginny said softly, looking up at him though her lashes, "I suggest we find a room."

* * *

_

Yes, I slept with the bastard. And I liked it. Alexandre turned out to be an excellent lover. Ooh, I loved his hands. The men I sleep with all seem to have the same characteristic, sinuous hands. All of them except one...three, and they redeemed themselves in other ways...yeah, they did.

So anyway, I'm betting you are wondering what morning was like on that particular occasion. Sorry to disappoint...there was no morning.

* * *

_After Alexandre had finished, Ginny got out of bed and got a glass of wine, completely unashamed of her nudity. She had acquired a taste for numerous wines in those short weeks, white Zinfandel being one of them._

_"Wine, Alexandre?" she asked the shadowed from of the Spaniard._

_"Yes," he answered. Ginny smiled and poured him a glass before going into the bathroom and fetching two robes. She tied one around her and gave the other to Alexandre. She wanted to have a conversation with this man; he seemed interesting. But any relative of the Malfoys was interesting._

_"So, Alexandre," she said, "what sort of work do you do?"_

_He sat across from her in a leather chair in front of the fire. "I am on the Board of Governors of the Spanish Ministry of Magic," he answered, taking a sip of the wine. "I also preside as a judge in trials."_

_"That must be fascinating work," Ginny said. "And which school did you attend? Did you go to Hogwarts or a Spanish wizarding school?"_

_"I went to Madrid's Witches and Wizards' Institute," he answered. "Just like my son Diego."_

_"And what a charming boy he is," Ginny commented. She wondered if he detected the sarcasm in her voice or not._

_Apparently he had and said, "Young boys – their heads are in the clouds, and their hands in their pants."_

_Ginny laughed outright at this. She brushed a strand of hair away from her face and said, "Family is family, I suppose. It must have been a while since you've seen Mr. Malfoy. You look very much alike, you know."_

_"Yes," he answered. "Lucius and I were closer growing up, however. I remember it like it was yesterday...though it was yesterday for you, wasn't it?"_

_Ginny smiled. "Is this an inquiry about my age, Alexandre? Do you really want to know? Ignorance is bliss, you know."_

_He studied her and said, "I think it will be unwise, but yes. What age are you?"_

_"Fifteen," she said, unashamed._

_His eyes bulged a bit. "A child...you are a child."_

_"No," she said kindly. "I've never been a child, Alexandre. I never will be, either." Then she rose and put her wine down, tightening her robe. "You haven't done anything wrong. As you can see, I'm not emotionally scarred and will go on with my life as though none of this has happened. No doubt you will, too. Goodnight, Alexandre."_

_Then she left the bewildered Alexandre and went to her room.

* * *

_

I know it was cold. I know that. But I like the cold, as you've noticed. I like hurting people, too, I think. Not so much I go out of my way to, but if they've done something to me...well, let's just say, their ass is grass.

The next part of the summer was very interesting indeed. I painted a bunch, having already got the family portraits finished. Malfoys pay handsomely, if I do say so myself. I had to get a separate vault at Gringotts at least.

Things passed by slowly (thank Merlin) for the next week or so. I had to "work my magic" on some other relative of Malfoy's, some cousin on his mother's side. Some stuck-up snob that couldn't wait to get me in the bedroom; I think Maurice was his name. He was a French wizard, and he was actually quite satisfying.

I felt myself grow colder every step I took in that house. One more layer of ice on my heart, and one more layer to protect against the pain. I welcomed it; I wanted it. They were making me into a monster; a beautiful monster albeit, but a monster.

The reason I didn't realize it was because my art was just so damn good. I could put any emotion I'd suppressed in it, and the feeling would be gone, extinguished, evaporated. I was freezing and heating my heart at the same time, and the sensation was undeniably odd. I didn't mind it because I could always freeze faster than thaw.

Draco's birthday party rolled around, and I was given a break from my "training." Malfoy told me Draco would be going with Pansy, like always. He knew I had no delusions that Draco loved me or was in any way promised to me. Pansy was promised to him, and he hated it. Malfoy hated Pansy, too. Hell, Malfoy hated his own wife and wasn't the least bit disturbed when she caught ill and couldn't attend the party. He told me I was to be his date to the party, but I was free to do what I wanted. Personally, I think he would have rather been with someone else. Yes, I'd learned who his mistress was. You'll never guess. Okay, maybe you will...no, you won't. Do you remember the Defense professor in my fifth year? Brigid Allen. Who would have figured? I wonder how that whole DADA teacher thing worked out. I wonder what her punishment will be when they finally catch her.

At any rate, the next part of my summer would be far more exciting than my first. What with Draco's party, going to Peru and the European Quidditch finals, I was going to be a busy Ginny.


	10. Year Six, Part Two, Deceived

**CHAPTER TEN: Year Six, Part Two, Deceived**

"That which does not kill us makes us stronger."

– Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche (1844 – 900), _Thus Spake Zarathusra

* * *

_

"_You can wear either color, Ginevra," Draco said as he lounged on her bed. "It just depends...no, you'll have blokes all over you no matter what, so do whatever the hell you want."_

"_Red or green, Draco," Ginny said tiredly. She only had two hours until his party, and she wanted to look good for it. "It has to be nice –"_

"– _but not too formal."_

"_And it has to be stylish –"_

"– _but not too showy."_

"_Yes! So what color should I wear?"_

"_How the hell should I know?"_

"_Red it is then," Ginny said in an exasperated voice. She had made two dresses for the occasion; one was red, and the other green. The red one was similar to the dress she wore in her fourth year. It was cut Mandarin style with high collar and no sleeves. She had a green dragon winding up the dress, and she wore black gloves that went just above her elbow. She also decided to carry a fan with a white, fuzzy fringe. She left her hair down and put a braid next to her ear. Her eye makeup was mostly black, and she wore ruby red lipstick. She loved the dress, though not the color. But she couldn't really wear the green; she had worn it on other occasions people had seen._

"_It looks fine to me," Draco said enviously. Ginny knew he hated that his father was taking her. She knew it was a test for him, and all she had to do was act natural._

"_Sorry you have to go with Parkinson," Ginny said, giving him a kiss on the cheek._

"_I'll make you sore for that one, Ginevra," he said spitefully._

_Ginny licked her lips and said casually, "That's right. You have to sleep with her tonight. Two words: ha, ha. At least I have a choice with whom I go to bed." She saw the doubt in his eyes and said, "I know who is on the guest list, you forget."_

"_Polinen," Draco growled. "He's married."_

"_His wife isn't coming. She had an unavoidable business venture." Ginny smirked. "He always was so nice to me. Besides, if that falls through, anyone would be happy to come upstairs with me."_

_Draco_ _looked at her dangerously. "I'm jealous."_

"_I know," she sighed, taking a brush and combing her hair. It had grown quite long; it was below her butt now. She decided to shorten it a bit that night and used a Receding Charm. She looked into her reflection, reached into her jewelry box and put on Hina and Nefertiti's rings. She had long since gained power over the rings, all of them in fact. She wasn't all that worried about the seventh ring. It would come in good time; everything always did._

_A knock was heard on the door, and a gray house-elf told Ginny to meet Lucius in the study and Draco to meet Pansy downstairs. Ginny headed to the study and watched Draco grumble as he headed downstairs. Knocking lightly on the door, she walked in and saw Lucius standing in front of the fire. He was wearing a regal, black robe and looked none too happy._

"_I will be excusing myself after the toast at dinner, Miss Weasley," he said darkly, pouring some liquor into the fire then watching it hiss. "Business calls."_

_He turned around, and his eyes widened just enough to be noticed. Ginny nodded though and said, "I understand, Mr. Malfoy."_

_He paused and said, "If you don't mind me saying, you look absolutely ravishing in that, Miss Weasley; red really does suit you."_

"_Thank you."_

"_Now we really should go and greet the guests," he said, extending his arm. She nodded again and took it, following him to the ballroom._

_They entered, and people automatically took notice of her. She smiled a chilly smile and returned their stares fearlessly. It was something she was used to by now. She wasn't afraid; she didn't feel fear. They passed by many people. Lucius engaged a few of them in conversation and introduced her to many. Most of them looked intimidated by her. _And why shouldn't they be? _she asked herself. _I'm here with Lucius Malfoy. I'm more influential than they are, and I'm beautiful to boot. They have reason to fear me, especially since I'll be sitting next to him at the head of the table.

_Ginny waved her fan lightly in front of her face as Lucius showed her off. She thought she did a damn good job of looking desirable and unattainable at the same time. She could have any person in that room. She reminded herself to calm down; Hina's ring always had this sort of affect on her._

_People clapped as Draco and Pansy came down the stairs. Pansy looked quite pretty; she had lost some weight and was wearing a flattering, dark blue dress._

"_You realize it isn't even a comparison, Ginevra," a familiar voice said in her ear. The corner of Ginny's lips turned up as she turned around._

"_Alexsey Polinen," she said slowly. "My, don't we look handsome."_

_To her delight and surprise, his pale skin turned a bit pink at the compliment. But it was true. He had retained his boyish charm and gained some mannish glamour. He was very handsome indeed._

"_Miss Weasley," Lucius said, turning from a foreign man to her and Alexsey, "I never realized you knew Alexsey. His father and I have known each other since Hogwarts. How is the old man, Alexsey?"_

"_His health is strong," Alexsey said smoothly. "And business goes vell. He sends his regrets for not being able to attend, though the meeting vill go on as planned."_

"_Good, good," Lucius said in a cosmopolitan manner. "Say, you don't know many people here, do you, Alexsey?"_

"_I know you, Draco, and Ginevra."_

"_As I suspected._ _Miss Weasley," he said, turning to her, "do you think you could entertain Alexsey until dinner is served? I'm sure you have a lot of catching up to do."_

"_Not at all, Mr. Malfoy," Ginny said with a smile. Lucius nodded to them both and went back to talking to the foreign diplomat. "So, Alexsey, how are you?"_

"_I'm doing vell, continuing the family business and trying to make my vay, support my family," he said cautiously._

"_A family!"_ _Ginny exclaimed. "But you just left school!"_

"_I know. I feel older already; Ilayna is pregnant," he confessed._

"_Well, congratulations, it seems you've grown up quite fast, Alexsey."_

"_It seems you have, too," he said. Ginny wasn't using her ring, and he was already hitting on her. She smirked inwardly; she really was that good. "Would you care to dance?"_

_Ginny nodded and went out on the floor with him. He smiled down on her as he had in her fourth year. Though this time she was returning his smile with a trained, cool one, not a nervous and shy one. He seemed to notice the change and looked a bit surprised about it. "Just how did you find your vay onto the Malfoy Estate, Ginevra?"_

"_I'm their 'resident artist,' I guess. Draco invited me for the summer to paint for his family, a sort of job. I accepted, and here I am. Beats the hell out of staying at home and being pestered by Ronald and Harry," she conceded._

"_Oh, yes," he said with a light laugh, "I recall now. They had you in the newspaper back home, your mural on the walls of Hogwarts. Vatever became of that? It vas very good; I hope they didn't take it down or ruin it."_

"_No, no," Ginny said, "They actually moved it. It is in the Wizarding portion of the Louvre right now. It is going to America_ _within the month, though. It won an award in _That Other, Smaller Broom Magazine _and in _Witch Paintbrush_, actually."_

"_I'm impressed," Alexsey said, turning in time with the music. "You seem to haff grown up, Ginevra."_

"_More than you know, Alexsey, more than you know," she said quietly. That was when Ginny had an epiphany. She didn't want to sleep with him. She didn't want to sleep with any of these people. Damn it, she was discontent. _Tough, _a voice in her head said, _deal and don't whine. Just because you don't want any of these men and you are feeling agitated doesn't mean you need to get grumpy. Enjoy yourself, and go back to your room alone.

_Ginny was silent for a while, and dinner was served. She sat to the left of Lucius, where Mrs. Malfoy usually sat, and Draco sat across from her at Lucius' right. Pansy was sitting next to Draco, and the Japanese man to whom Lucius had been talking earlier was at her left._

"_A toast," Lucius said smoothly as he stood. Ginny rose as well and brought her wine to attention. "A toast to my son on his seventeenth birthday. I have watched him grow from a willful, young boy into a strong man. May he prosper in his seventh and last year at Hogwarts and then in the real world."_

_The group lifted their glasses in unison and drank politely. "Now," Mr. Malfoy continued, "I must leave you all, business with the Ministry..."_

_He left, and Ginny was forced to make dull conversation with the Japanese man to the left of her and appear to have a good time. She didn't want to be there; it was boring, and something told her she should be somewhere else. It was like a tugging feeling in her stomach. She wanted to follow Lucius; it had something to do with him, or she'd eat her fan._

_She ended up talking to Alexsey and then retiring herself. Ginny slept fitfully that night; images and dreams haunted her until she woke_.

* * *

For all my misapprehensions, for all my faults, for all my stupidity, I would always remember Lima. Lima is the capital of Peru. Peru is in South America. Peru is also the home of Machu Picchu, the ancient Incan ruins of the witches and wizards of old. I always was captivated by the past; I always will be. But setting foot on those hallowed stones cut by hand, I felt alive. I felt spirits all around me. I could hear the whispers of the dead and powerful. I will always remember Machu Picchu.

A few days after Draco's birthday (and after I'd got over that embarrassing lapse with reality and sucked up my displeasure), the whole Malfoy family and their painter and their house-elves left on a Portkey supplied by the Ministry to Lima, Peru.

You think Peru, and you're like, "Well, it can't be that advanced; it is South America." Well, you'd be wrong. Go to the right part of Lima, and you'll see nicer, cleaner, more beautiful sights than Paris. The breathtaking view of the jungles is only topped by the interesting new sights and sounds. There are exotic animals (parrots and the like) literally roaming about the city. You can buy an avocado on one street, turn the corner and walk into a shopping mall filled with the most stylish clothes in South America.

Yes, Lima is beautiful; Peru is beautiful. But Malfoy's friends in Lima...eh...not so much. I've never met a person that stank so badly of lies and deceit. His name was Antonio Vasquez, and he was the leader of the Peruvian Death Eaters. I also hated his wife, Lupe, and his daughter, Rosalina...stupid bitches.

* * *

"_Narcissa!_ _Darling! How are you?" the skinny Peruvian woman said in her high-pitched squeal of a voice. It grated on Ginny's ears, and she suddenly wished for a good pair of earplugs._

"_Lupe! I haven't seen you in an age; you look marvelous," the equally giddy Mrs. Malfoy said._

"_Lucius," a tall, dark-haired, dark-eyed, dark-skinned man said to Lucius, extending a hand._

"_Antonio," Lucius said, offering his hand. They shook, and Ginny felt Antonio's eyes on her._

"_This is Miss Ginevra Weasley," Lucius said, introducing Ginny to the two Peruvians. "She is a friend of Draco's and our guest this summer."_

_Antonio nodded at her, his greased-back, curly, black hair making him look more unsavory than Professor Snape himself. Ginny smiled coldly at both Antonio and Lupe. Lupe looked like she wanted to sneer but held it in. Ginny could tell she wasn't welcome._

"_Ah, Rosalina," Lupe said quickly. Ginny turned behind her and saw who she was looking at. "This is our daughter, Rosalina. Rosalina, this is Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy and Draco."_

"_Nice to meet you all," the girl said in perfect English. She was shorter than Ginny by a few good inches, and she had long, black hair. Ginny decided that, at first glance, the girl was comely enough, but as Rosalina walked past Ginny, she thought it a miracle she didn't trip over her arse more. _Good Merlin, _Ginny thought privately._

_Ginny stayed quiet while the adults were catching up, and Rosalina did her best to engage Draco in conversation. Ginny shot him a smirk, and he sneered at her. None of this went unnoticed by Lupe, however._

"_Rosalina, why don't you show Draco the view?_ _I'm sure he's never seen anything like it," Lupe said._

"_Yes, Mother," Rosalina said with a little smile._

"_So, Ginevra," Lupe said, effectively pinning Ginny in her seat, "you're a friend of Draco's from school?"_

_Ginny smiled. "Yes. We are good friends from Hogwarts; we're in the same house."_

"_We've invited her over to showcase some of her talents," Lucius said smoothly. "Miss Weasley is an excellent painter and excellent company."_

"_She has such good taste," Mrs. Malfoy added. "She practically designed our whole house. And the art gallery is so much livelier now. She is a genius!"_

_Lupe and Antonio shared a glance, and the conversation went on without her. After about a half hour, the Malfoys and Ginny left for the flat they'd rented for the next two weeks. It was a nice place, in Ginny's opinion, with an open feeling due to the many glass walls displaying the jungle atmosphere. Ginny liked her rooms because they were in a corner of the house, and she got two views of the forest and city._

_Mostly, Ginny was excited about the trip to Machu_ _Picchu_ _the next day. It would be much easier for them because they could just Portkey, but for natives and Muggle visitors, it was impossible to reach without use of a llama._

"_What is so special about this place anyway?" Draco asked disinterestedly as he sat out on the glass porch that morning._

_Ginny looked up at him over her book and said, "You're kidding me, right?"_

"_So it's a mountain temple thing that was made a long time ago. Who cares?"_

_Ginny set down her book. "Has anyone ever told you that you need to work harder at being ignorant? If so, I'd be surprised. Let me educate you, so I can stand your presence. Machu_ _Picchu_ _is the most important Incan architectural structure ever. Not only is it said to have mystical powers, its primary function was as an astronomical observatory. The Intihuatana stone has been shown to be a precise indicator of the winter solstice and other celestial periods. It is said that if a sensitive person touches their forehead to the stone, the Intihuatana opens their vision to the spirit world. Not only that, but Peruvian and other South American witches and wizards regard it as the single most magical place in the world. By my standards, it comes in third behind Avalon and the seat at Delphi."_

"_Why don't you put your forehead to the Inihatya –"_

"– _Intihuatana –"_

"– _rock and see if your vision is opened to the spirit world?"_

"_Because."_

"_Why?"_

"_I don't have a good feeling about it."_

"_Why?"_

"_Because I don't."_

_Draco_ _was silent, and Ginny went back to her reading. Soon it was time for their Portkey, and Ginny made sure to bring all her rings. She didn't exactly have a bad feeling about the place as she'd told Draco. But she wanted to be prepared; though for who or what purpose, she didn't know._

_As soon as she touched the Portkey, she felt the familiar swallowing of her body on itself as she was whisked away to the heights of the Andes. Draco caught her arm before she could fall, which turned out to be very wise, as she inhaled deeply with awe and felt her knees go weak._

_It was even greater than she imagined. The expanse of sky was almost too much for her. It was as if she was standing on Olympus_ _itself, looking down on the mortal world with an all-seeing eye. The mountains and jagged cliffs in the background were only surpassed by the brightness and clarity of everything. Green peaks and valleys, clear waters and skies, ancient sights and smells, it was almost too much for her._

_Ginny clutched Draco's arm tightly as she took it all in. Just looking at the ground, the perfectly carved stones under her feet, reminded her of the power of the place._

"_Do you like it?" Lucius asked her after a moment._

_Ginny could only nod. She had a feeling that she looked suspiciously like a guppy with her mouth open and her eyes wide, but she didn't care. The sheer volume of the place was enough to make her lose all connection with reality._

_The group of three – Ginny had to laugh at the feeble excuse Mrs. Malfoy made not to come – moved around the ruins. Lucius had made sure no one would be there that day to disturb them._

"_The Intihuatana stone," Ginny whispered in awe. Before them stood the ancient stone of the Incans. "It's said this was the place where the Incan priestesses were trained. The Incans were especially adept at analyzing time, the motions of the stars and planets, and numbers. Those markings around the stone, they help calculate the seasons and predict the solstices."_

"_Can you read them?" Draco asked._

_Ginny looked longingly at the stones. "No. Not many people can. They don't publish it. I would like to learn how though."_

"_Antonio can," Lucius said idly. "It is his specialty, the stars and ancient Incan magic." Ginny thought this over. She doubted Antonio would teach her anything. She could always ask though. "I want you to put your forehead to the stone."_

_Ginny frowned. "I shouldn't."_

_Lucius, looking very amused, said, "And why is that?"_

"_I don't really know," she said quietly. She wanted to; more than anything, she wanted to. Just the thought of seeing into the spirit world, no matter how long, was intriguing. Slowly, as by their own direction, her feet carried her to the stone. She fell on her knees in a likely looking place, and, opposed to her better judgment, she touched the Intihuatana to her forehead._

_It was like being shocked. A spark of light flashed in front of her eyes, and she pulled back sharply. Slowly, her vision returned to normal...kind of. She stifled a cry as dozens of robed women walked around her. Several were carrying stone tablets, and many wore decorative headdresses. They were obviously shades, visions of the past or ghosts haunting the present but invisible to most people. Ginny stared in amazement. It wasn't what she had imagined, but it was far more realistic. She looked about and saw the place wasn't a ruin; it was a thriving center of commerce. People rushed about trying to get their jobs done. Gazing down on the once used fields, she saw people working in them busily, digging the earth and planting seeds._

"_Ginevra..."_

"_Ginevra..."_

"_Ginevra..."_

"_Yes," she answered after realizing someone was calling her._

_Turning around, Ginny saw a woman with a particularly decorative headdress and skirt walking towards her. The woman's face was covered by the mask she wore, but she looked a native with her short, curvy frame and bronze skin._

"_Follow me, Ginevra, I have something to show you, to give to you," the woman said. As they walked, the strange woman continued. "I am the Maiden of War, Coatlicue, and the seventh sister. I assume you have passed all the other tests, no matter how oblivious you were of them, and that is why you are here. We, my sisters and I, have great hopes for you, Ginevra."_

"_Where are you taking me?" she asked in shock._

_Ginny imagined a smile on the face of the masked woman the way she answered the question. "To the most sacred place in Machu_ _Picchu, of course._ _Where else did you think we'd get Xanu?"_

"_Who's Xanu?"_

"_Not who, but what," Coatlicue answered. Leading Ginny down the ever-turning stairs and passages, they came to a bare wall at which Coatlicue stopped. "Now, are you sure you want to come any farther?"_

_Ginny looked at the Incan woman silently. "What will I find?"_

"_Some people find answers. Most people find more questions. You, I think, will find Xanu," the woman answered._

"_Can you come with me?"_

"_No," Coatlicue said. "But I can advise you. Don't lie. Don't force anything. What will come will come."_

_Ginny pursed her lips. "That isn't very warlike of you."_

"_I'm the mother of war, not war himself. I bring what would have come sooner or later, just as I bring you to Xanu. I will not be here when you return. You won't see any sisters after today, but remember we live in you. Every gift we've given you, you've had in you the whole time. Now go, you haven't much time."_

_Ginny suddenly knew what to do. Putting all six of her rings on her pointer finger, she ran it down the center of the wall. It was just wide enough for her to enter, and it closed right after she walked though. But what she walked into, she didn't know. It seemed a ceremony room of some type, and there was a dagger on the stone table in the middle of the chamber. Ginny was immediately drawn to it; she moved to it like a moth drawn to the flame._

Halt, Virgin From Light, _a powerful voice sounded._

"_Xanu," she whispered._

Xanu the Sharp, Xanu the Untainted, Xanu the Dangerous, Xanu the Truth-Sayer, Xanu the War Bringer, Xanu the Dagger. Xanu is what I am called; I am the weapon of the Virgin From Light. If you think you are the chosen, pick me up and kiss my blade. If you think otherwise, put your rings on my blade and leave; you have no place in this sacred crypt.

"_How can I tell if I'm the Virgin From Light?" she asked tentatively._

Kiss my blade, and if I ring true, you will know. If I don't ring true, you will be sacrificed.

_Ginny swallowed. Either she was, or she wasn't; it was a fifty/fifty chance. Carefully, she picked up the blade and examined it. It was delicate of craft, made of some rock she couldn't place, but she knew it not to be any metal of which she'd ever heard. It had Incan writing on the base of its blade, and its hilt was emerald studded. Somewhere under her icy interior, the courage she needed built until she could bring herself to do the feat. Slowly, she brought the blade to her lips and kissed its cold, foreign metal._

_Immediately the room was filled with a pure, white light, and Ginny felt her soul being pierced. It was Xanu, cutting a hole straight into her, burying itself to the hilt, and then covering itself completely. Ginny began breathing sporadically and violently separating from the world of the spirit. She felt the cold, hard stone at the base of the Intihuatana, and then she slammed into it. Her head was swimming, and she still felt weak from her traumatic experience with the dagger. She could feel it within her, feeding off her soul, yet at the same time trying to rejuvenate her, as though it knew it had done wrong._

"_Ginevra!" a sharp voice said. "Ginevra! Are you all right? Look what you've done, Father! Breathe, Ginevra! Breathe!"_

_And she did. She inhaled deeply, trying to fill her empty lungs. Coughing, she stood with Draco's help and leaned into him for warmth in the chilly atmosphere._

"_Are you all right?" Draco asked her again._

"_I...I don't know. Give me a minute..." she said distantly, still trying to recover from her shock. "Yes," she said after a moment, looking into Draco's genuinely worried eyes and nodding. "I'm okay. That was quite a ride."_

"_What happened?" Lucius said. To Ginny's ears, he sounded almost eager._

_Before she could answer, Draco gave his father a penetrating glare and said, "I think you've done enough already. I think we should leave."_

_Ginny looked down on the ground tiredly. She didn't really want to leave, but she was uneasy in this place now. Her soul was sore. She'd only experienced something like this when she'd been training for her Animagus. Projecting one's soul wasn't easy, nor was it particularly healthy. She doubted having something embedded in her soul was, either._

"_I suppose we can talk about it later," Lucius said stiffly._

_Draco_ _took Ginny's arm protectively, but it slipped out when Ginny didn't move with him. "What?" he asked worriedly._

"_I can read it," she said. Ginny gasped in realization. She could read it! It was clear as day. Projections, prophecies, information, everything. It was amazing, like seeing a foreign dance come to life. "It says...we have to watch the sunset. It's the summer solstice."_

"_What is so special about the summer solstice?" Lucius asked._

"_That," Ginny said, pointing to the sun as it hit off the Intihuatana stone. "The hours of light are greater than the hours of dark," she continued, "so the Incans thought their sun god, Con Ticci Viracocha, had the most power on this day." The ray of sun directly in the path of the Intihuatana stone splattered on the surrounding rock, lighting the Incan texts. They shimmered and danced on the stone for some minutes then died down. It was certainly a show. "From now until the end of the world, the solstices will hit the Intihuatana stone and rejuvenate the power of the Incan gods and their magic. The Spanish wizards who traveled with the Conquistadors saw this as a threat to them, so they systematically destroyed all Intihuatana stones. But this stone is the most important, the most sacred, and the most powerful."_

_Ginny could see the wheels in Lucius' head turning. "Could one harness this power?" he asked finally._

_She frowned. "Theoretically? Yes, you could."_

"_Theoretically, how would you go about doing this?" Draco asked, his fingers on his chin and a slight, intelligent frown on his face._

_She thought for a moment. "You would need a large conductor, a powerful stone or gem. You would need excellent channelers, probably ten to twelve – seventeen_ _to be safe, though it could be done with nine. You would need to be able to translate those texts around the Intihuatana. But it would be almost impossible. It was meant to power their gods and magic, not a person. It goes beyond my expertise in Arithmancy. I doubt Professor Vector would be able to do it."_

_The three were silent for a moment. Ginny knew what Lucius wanted to do; he wanted to give this information to Tom. If she were going to be invaluable, she would have to convince them of it. She looked around her in vain, trying to come up with a reason, a justification. The magic around the stones was almost completely dormant, and the Intihuatana wasn't reflecting the sun anymore, as it had gone mostly over the horizon, letting the stars shine into the night._

"_Could you?" Lucius asked._

Perfect, _Ginny thought, _now for the show. _She sighed and looked over the Incan texts cut into stone, running her fingers over them lightly. "Not now," she answered. "If I was given time, perhaps. I'm not stupid, Mr. Malfoy. I know why you want to harness the power of the Intihuatana; I know who you'd give it to. But know this: it is a one in a thousand chance it would work. It was meant to power gods, power the magic of the people. If you fed it to an individual, it might be too much. They would have to be god-like; they would have to eat ambrosia or something to counter the effects of the destructive magic. And even then, if all you wished came true, the odds that they would be able to control the power given to them are astronomical."_

"_But could you do it?" Draco asked._

_Ginny looked away again. "Yes, given time, opportunity, study...and a reason."_

_After an uncomfortable silence, Lucius spoke. "Enough. We'll discuss this later. We have to meet with Antonio and Lupe for dinner. Apparently Rosalina wants to take you both 'clubbing' in Lima, some Muggle pastime involving dancing and alcohol."

* * *

_

The rest of the vacation was spent being entertained by the Vasquez family. Their dislike for me grew into full-blown hatred, and I still ignored them. We visited a few other ruins and did some more exploring, but other than that, we stayed in Lima.

I left with the Malfoys, my sketchbook and mind full, a few weeks before the start of term. I was looking forward to school and my sixth year. My prefect badge came in the mail the same day as Draco's Head Boy badge. As a reward, Draco got a new broom, a Firebolt II Plus.

The most exciting part of my summer was about to come, too. The World Cup was being played in Ireland again, the Irish team hosting. It would be Ireland vs. the United States in the finals. All Draco talked about was the damn Cup. After my time in Peru, nothing was quite as exciting. But I had other things to worry about than who won the Cup. Lucius Malfoy gave me another assignment.

* * *

"_Ah, Miss Weasley, do come in. I hope I didn't disturb your painting," Lucius said, setting down a document on his desk. He looked up at her with his frigid, gray eyes and raised an eyebrow._

"_No," Ginny said slowly. "I just finished a painting when your elf asked me to come."_

"_Good. Please, sit. You and I have a few things to discuss." Lucius motioned for her to sit. She did and politely crossed her legs, waiting for him to speak. He rose and paced about the room for a moment. "We have two things to discuss. One of them is your new assignment at the World Cup. As your eighth and final training session, I would like you to seduce the American team's Seeker, Maximus Brankovitch III, the team's captain. I will of course supply the opportunity, but the rest is up to you."_

"_Consider it done," she said casually. She was getting good at her job; she would be a pro by the time she got to school. No one stood a chance._

"_Good. The second being the Intihuatana stone. I have a team of four highly skilled Arithromancers working on the logistics of the operation. However, I want someone to translate the texts for me; I don't trust Antonio any longer."_

"_You don't trust anyone. Why ask me?"_

"_You can read it. And for some reason which is beyond my ability to comprehend, I feel I can entrust this to you. Maybe it is because my son and I have such similar personalities, or maybe because of the way you are; I like you. It isn't something I usually say, or even do. The number of people I actually like can be calculated on one hand. So you see, I trust you with this because I am more or less being foolish."_

"_Freud says most of the human mind is incomprehensible and unpredictable," Ginny said calmly. "Most decisions are made correctly by the subconscious and then second guessed by the conscious."_

"_One of the few Muggles I tolerate." Lucius looked out his window and then back at her. "You will have to work at it at school, I imagine. Try to pull it off as an assignment."_

"_That won't be hard. The Advanced Arithmancy class I'm taking is a huge out of class assignment, and results are the finals. It will be cake to fool Vector; she is clueless, and I'll get a mark for it."_

"_It is settled then," Lucius said distractedly. "You'll send for Cronos to deliver your results. Are we clear?"_

"_Crystal," she said stonily. He motioned for her to leave with a flip of his hand, and Ginny left.

* * *

_

Exactly. This was perfect. The Quaffle was in my hands now. Too perfect. Ah, so many ways I could go. I could: A) sabotage their operation with faulty translations, thus killing Tom with an overload of power; B) tell Dumbledore I was going to sabotage their operation with faulty translations thus killing Tom with an overload of power, so he could send Aurors and round up the remaining Death Eaters; or C) act as a double agent and leak information to Harry or Ron or Hermione about the operation, thus giving Dumbledore enough time to sabotage the damn operation himself.

So many options for killing Tom. I could taste my revenge. You ever hear that saying "revenge is a dish best served cold"? I think mine will burn from the inside and combust. I was thinking a combination between B and C. I ended up deciding to tell Dumbledore initially what I was doing then leak information through one of the Gryffindors to him. Tom would fall. Hopefully, I would be there to watch.

But I didn't have any time to use planning for that. The Quidditch Cup was coming. Soon I was taking a last minute, private Portkey to the top box. Little did I know someone else was sitting at the top box. All I wanted to know was how they found the money!

* * *

_Ginny sat in the same seat she'd sat in three years earlier. She had decided on a backless sundress, broad-rimmed hat, and black sunglasses. It was a cute ensemble, the newest fashion among prevalent witches. The dress had a sunflower pattern on it and crisscrossed, thin straps on the back; her shoes were stylish, clear pumps. Her dress was designed to catch the eye of the American Seeker and showed off her legs and breasts._

"_Don't come in until you can control yourself!" she had said to Draco earlier that day._

"_What?!?"_

"_Haven't you ever seen how American witches dress?"_

_He paused. "Yes."_

"_You can't ravage me right before we go like you've been doing all summer!" she'd said through the door._

_He walked through. Draco's jaw seemingly dropped to the floor before he could clean himself up. "I didn't know they wore that."_

"_It _is _quite revealing."_

"_I want to move to America."_

_Ginny had to roll her eyes at the very thought of the rest of that conversation. She'd come to the conclusion Draco was just like every other seventeen year old boy she'd met, obsessed with the Three B's – breasts, butt, and baby-making, though the last was more commonly known as sex._

_Draco was talking to an American wizard, a brother of someone on the American team, as they waited for Ludo Bagman to begin announcing. To her right were Lucius and the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge._

_"Harry!" someone said in a loud whisper. "Look who's here!" To Ginny's infinite surprise, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Hermione Granger and a troop of redheaded boys behind her, along with Harry Potter. _Damn it all to Hell!_ Ginny shouted mentally. "She's sitting with Malfoy."_

_Ginny turned to Draco and put her hand on his thigh. Immediately he turned to her, and she said into his ear, "Don't look, but we have company. My family is here, with Harry and Hermione." A quick smirk crossed his face, and Ginny saw the American wizard lean a bit closer._

_Before anything could happen, however, Ludo Bagman began. "Ladies and gentlemen...welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-third Quidditch World Cup! And now, without further ado, allow me to announce the favored Irish team! Presenting – Connolly! Ryan! _ _Troy__! Mullet! Moran! Quigley! Aaaaaand – Lynch!"_

_Seven green blurs swept over the stadium, the crowd in green roaring and cheering enthusiastically for the Irish National Quidditch Team. Ginny noticed with amusement that they had forgone mascot presentations because of the events of the veela and leprechauns at the last final._

_"And now," Bagman continued in a yell, "please greet – the _ _United States__ National Quidditch Team! And in red, white, and blue are our underdogs! Higgins! Terrence! Dobson! Norris! Johnson! Johnson! Aaaaaaaand Brankovitch! _

_"To regulate the game, all the way from _ _Egypt__, our referee, acclaimed Chairwizard of the International Association of Quidditch, Hussan Mostafa!" Ludo said this as a small and skinny wizard, completely bald save a large mustache, strode onto the field. A silver whistle like Madam Hooch's stuck out of his mustache, and he carried a large, wooden crate under one arm, his broom under the other. Mostafa mounted his broom and kicked the crate open – four balls burst into the air: the scarlet Quaffle, the two black Bludgers, and the miniscule, winged Golden Snitch. With a sharp blow of his whistle, Mostafa shot into the air after the balls. "Theeeeeeeeeey're OFF!" screeched Bagman. "And it is Mullet! _ _Troy__! Moran! Higgins! Back to Mullet! _ _Troy__! Dobson! Moran!"_

_Ginny was genuinely impressed. The Americans, after a slow start, began to catch up. The player who stole the show was no doubt the American Chaser, Brandon Norris. He was quick on the broom, had a rocket for an arm, and was, not to mention, quite handsome. Ginny tried comparing him to the American wizard sitting next to Draco. Their facial features were similar, and their hair and eyes were, too. She frowned and looked back onto the pitch._

_Draco pressed the Omnioculars to her face, saying something excitedly about a play the American wizards (a team of seven men, Ginny scoffed) made as they scored. Draco looked though his Omnoculars again and ignored her; even Lucius looked interested in the game. Personally, Ginny would rather be playing than watching._

_She spotted the American Seeker, Maximus Brankovitch III. He was supposedly the greatest Seeker since Krum, as Krum had left the Quidditch business to study philosophy and mathematics in a school in _ _St. Petersburg__. He was good-looking enough, in Ginny's opinion, with bright, blonde hair and bronze skin, suggesting he was perhaps from the West Coast/California area._

_The game went on for a few hours more, and at 270 to 310, _ _Ireland__'s lead, Maximus Brankovitch III showed his stuff and caught the Snitch. Ginny had seen more exciting games; she'd played in more exciting games. But she clapped with the American witches and wizards in congratulating them on a fair and honest win. The American team took their victory lap, and then the Irish and American teams both met in the top box to shake hands and socialize before heading off to their victory party in the wizarding nightclub in the nearest town._

_Huge and sweaty men (and one woman, an Irish Chaser named Jeanette Mullet) entered the top box and shook hands with their opponents. The conquering Brandon Norris and Maximus Brankovitch III, holding the Cup between them, headed towards the American wizard to whom Draco had been talking._

_"Awesome game, _ _Brandon__," the American wizard said. "And nice catch, Max."_

_"It was nothing! These Irish wizards don't scare us, do they, Max?" the apparently stupid Brandon Norris said loudly._

_"Keep it down, would you?" Brankovitch said quietly, his eyes flicking around him and then at Norris._

_"Yeah," the American wizard said. "Oh, and this is Draco Malfoy, an English wizard attending Hogwarts."_

_"Nice to meet you," Brankovitch said, holding out his hand._

_"Likewise," Draco replied, shaking his hand and the hand of Norris. "And this is Ginevra Weasley."_

_"Pleased to meet you both," she said, taking the hand of Norris, who turned a deep red, and then Brankovitch, who also turned a light pink. She didn't even need her ring! "Your flying was marvelous," she praised, curling at bit of hair behind her ear. "It must have been _terribly _exciting playing the previous World Champions. I can only imagine."_

_Brankovitch coughed uneasily. "Well, that is what I do."_

_"That's fascinating," Ginny said; the corner of her mouth turned up in a flirtatious way. "Tell me, what is _ _America__ like? I've never been there."_

_"Draco," Lucius called from behind her. "Oh, I see you've met the Americans. Good show, both of you. Draco, I've someone you must meet. Come."_

_Draco left. "Finally!" Ginny sighed, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "He acts like he is my knight in shining armor, following me around like that. Really, just because we are in the same house!"_

_Ginny smiled inwardly as the Americans took the bait. "Is he bothering you?" Brankovitch asked, his eyes darting dangerously at Draco then fondly at Ginny. _Stupid, _Ginny thought. _Why do men ALWAYS fall for this? Oh, I'm a damsel in distress! Save me! Ha!_ "Do you want me to give him a hint?" _

_"No!" Ginny gasped, looking helpless and putting her hand lightly on his forearm. "Please don't!"_

_Brankovitch frowned and looked at Draco again. "I think," he said, his serious blue eyes returning to her face, "that you should come outside with me. _ _Brandon__, stay here and make sure Malfoy over there doesn't leave for a while."_

_Norris nodded, as did his brother, and Ginny took the large hand of the American in hers, smiling up at him as he led her out. But before she could leave, she heard the voice of her brother. "Ginny! Ginny!"_

_She stiffened, and Brankovitch looked at her questioningly. Ginny, standing on her tiptoes, whispered in the American's ear, "That is my brother. The one with the dark hair next to him is one of his friends. They are the ones who refused to protect me against Malfoy and let him take me to his manor for the summer." Ginny almost broke into laughter at this statement, but she held it in and watched Brankovitch's face darken. "Let me deal with it, please?"_

_He nodded, and Ginny turned to her brother and Harry. "Leave me alone," she said in a serious tone. "You've done enough." She made sure to hold tighter to Brankovitch's hand as she did this then pull on him slightly to tell him she wanted to leave. It was just too easy._

_"You English folk are way weird, you know that?" he asked her once they were in the sunshine and walking down the bleachers._

_Ginny smiled shyly at him, taking the full force of his stare and blowing it off like it was a mere glance. "I guess life is different in the States; we still haven't gone beyond the age of chivalry in wizarding _ _Britain__."_

_"I guess," Brankovitch grumbled. A sharp wind picked up, and Ginny's hat flew from her head and into the distance. Her skirt whipped around her, and she hugged a bit tighter to the American. He looked down on her and said, "You want to get a bite to eat?"_

_"Sure." Ginny entwined her fingers in his. She could almost hear his heart beat faster as he Disapparated with her to the bed and breakfast where he was staying. "Were you going to do some sightseeing?" Ginny asked him._

_"Well," he confessed, "I was, but now I think I'll just take you out to dinner. We start practicing next Monday; we don't really get any time off. I wanted to see a bit of _ _Ireland__ and _ _London_ _England__ before I left."_

_"That can all be arranged. Did you want to go to a nightclub for dinner? If so, we could go to _ _Soho__. Or if you wanted to be somewhere more private, we could go elsewhere."_

_Brankovitch's__ eyes roved over her. "Somewhere more private, I think."_

_"Hogsmeade it is, then," she said. "It is the only all-wizarding village in _ _Scotland__."_

_Soon the two were sitting in a corner of Coliseums, the new restaurant in Hogsmeade, finishing off their blueberry pie and talking Quidditch. Truthfully, Ginny did like Brankovitch. He was funny, intelligent, talented, handsome, and just plain fascinating. She had been able to gather his whole life story easily from him while divulging almost nothing about herself. It was better that way; the less attached to her he was, the easier it would be for her to do what she needed to do._

_"So," he said as he sat next to her, taking a small sip of his beer, "what do you want to do with your life?"_

_"I've always wanted to write or paint. I've always liked Arithmancy, too, so I really don't know. What do you want to do? You can't just play Quidditch all your life." He pulled his arm off her shoulder and looked down at the table. "Come on, it can't be that bad," she coaxed, laying a hand on his leg._

_"I haven't gotten that far yet. I'm only three years out of school, and I never really thought about it because of Quidditch." He looked at her, a little pink. "Do you mind if I tell you something? I mean, I know we just met..." _

_Ginny pretended to look confused. Brankovitch ran his hand through his thick, blonde hair, looking away nervously. "What I mean is I...I've never felt this way about a person before...you – you make me feel different, Ginevra."_

_Ginny smiled sweetly. "Would you like to kiss me, Max?"_

_His right hand twitched before he brought it to her chin, lifted her lips to his slowly and placed a soft, chaste kiss on her mouth. After a moment, he pulled away. Ginny batted her eyelashes slowly at him. Then she pulled his ear to her mouth and whispered, "Take me to your room."_

_And he did. They appeared in a small, quaint, little room she suspected was his in the bed and breakfast. It was dark, and moonlight spilled in through the half-closed drapes. Brankovitch ran his fingers lovingly down her hair and brushed his cheek against hers._

_"So beautiful, so sweet," he murmured into her ear. "So innocent."

* * *

_

"Innocent...innocent...innocent..." The words reverberated in my head. I'll admit I froze. Innocent? I wasn't innocent. I was the opposite of innocent. I was hardened, battle-wizened, and heart-weary. A person who didn't even know me, a person who'd not seen or talked to me previous to this day, and he called me innocent. I suppose the character I was playing was innocent, pulling the "would you like to kiss me" stunt. But me...innocent? No. Not really.

A rock dropped down in my stomach, echoing as if it were thrown into a pit. "Innocent." I'll remember those words for a long time. For many reasons, I remember those words. One being he died. The very next year, he was playing in his hometown stadium, and there was a Death Eater attack. Completely random, completely unplanned, incredibly deadly for the two hundred affected. Another reason being he told me he loved me. It wasn't odd; I'd had people confess their love to me before. Harry did. If Draco hadn't grown into his father, he would have. Had I kept toying with Alexsey, he would have.

To my shame and disgust, I went on with the plan. He didn't even notice my hesitation. Americans. I guess that is all I can say. He told me he loved me, and the next day I threw it in his face. Well, I didn't throw it in his face, but I did leave him late that morning and scrub myself clean after I got to Malfoy Estate.

That was the first time I'd felt dirty doing something like that. It was as if I was defiling "the holy temple of love" or something horrid like that. It was the first time one of my victims had said they loved me. It really is just three simple words. Some people wait their whole life to hear them and die happy. I'll wait my whole life and then die, haunted by the people who loved me and either turned their back on me, or I on them.

Funny how things happen like that. It's learned behavior. It happened to me; I learned it. That was the only thing I knew how to do. And I did it. And up until then, I wasn't ashamed. I was ashamed now. I was dirty now. How do you purify yourself from something like that? Can you even purify yourself? It is possible to forget what you've done to another? I tainted him like I'd been tainted, and I couldn't apologize or make it right.

I think now, deep down, I still had the need for things to be right and fair in the world. It is a childish thing, really, to want justice and fairness all the time. Only children think it's their right. Only children believe it is part of life. In reality, injustice and inequality are what life is about. Maybe children have it correct. Maybe you are born innately knowing what your rights are, what you deserve. But you learn. Eventually you figure out it isn't all right and good in the world; injustices happen, and then people shrug and move on.

It's a sad thing really, sad and true. I've found some of the saddest, scariest, sickest, and most terrifying things are true. It hurts more when it is true than when it is a lie. The truth will always be infinitely more powerful and painful than a lie.

At any rate, summer had drawn to a close, my mind filled with new turmoil and my bags with new clothes and materials and books. I guess you'd have to be there to understand. I had a lot of things on my mind. I had to talk to Dumbledore. I had to catch up on Animagus training. I had to get on with the Quidditch season. I had to get on with school. I had to start my betrayal and deluding of Snape, Black, Lupin, Harry, and anyone else I thought I could. To have this many things to think about, and you wonder why I am the way I am. I was a mess, a beautifully terrible mess.

Happy start of term to you, Ginevra Weasley!


	11. Year Six, Part Three, Discovered

**CHAPTER ELEVEN: Year Six, Part Three, Discovered**

"To what extent is any given man morally responsible for any given act? We do not know."

– Alexis Carrel

* * *

The feast really isn't that bad. Apart from having to sit next to a bunch of smelly, hairy, hormonally challenged boys who can't take their eyes off my chest, it's a fun experience for all. The teachers sit at the head table, looking either excited the school year is starting (everyone minus Snape) or dreading having to walk into a classroom with the monsters they call children (basically just Snape). I dreaded everything about this year. Think about it. Harry Potter's seventh year. What couldn't go wrong? Danger! Danger! Danger, Will Robinson (to quote the old Muggle TV show, _Lost in Space_)! I love how everyone is completely oblivious to the fact that danger lurks behind Harry Potter like a pedophile behind ten-year-old girls. It makes me feel confident about the generation in which I'm living. Either that or everyone is just too damn optimistic.

Anyway, start of term feast, yeah! Start of the actual term, yeah! Start of living hell, yeah! Good attitude, eh?

But the first few weeks of school passed smoothly. As always, I met McGonagall on Thursday to work on my Animagus. I was surprised to find I really wasn't that far away from meeting my goal, a month – two, tops – until I was a full blown Animagus. I was also registered. Can't have illegal Animagi running around like they own the damn place, can we?

I looked forward to my meeting with Dumbledore, which I had scheduled for a week or two after the start of the year. I'd told Draco I was petitioning for a harder class schedule, and he accused me of being a Granger follower. But it was an excuse.

* * *

"_Ah, Miss Weasley," Dumbledore said as Ginny entered the office lazily. It was about damn time; she'd scheduled to meet with him the first day she'd returned. She knew he'd given up on her, but this would reassure him if he had any doubts. "Do sit down; have some tea. After harder classes, are you?"_

"_No," Ginny said flatly. He raised an eyebrow. "I don't care about the classes. I have something to tell you. It's about Malfoy and Tom. I know what he is planning, and I can help you stop him, even kill Tom."_

_The corner of Dumbledore's lip twitched into a smile, and a hint of triumph was present in his infinitely blue eyes. "Do tell."_

"_I was planning on it." Ginny crossed her legs in business-like fashion. "As you know, I stayed with the Malfoys this summer. As you also probably know, I went with them to Peru. Have you heard of the Intihuatana stone? Do you know what it is, what it does, what it can do?"_

"_I've heard of it and know what it does."_

"_Malfoy wants to use it to power Tom, not the Peruvian gods and people. He wants to channel the power of the stone into Tom. I've made myself invaluable as a translator in this action."_

"_Is that so," Dumbledore mused. "And how exactly is Mr. Malfoy planning on doing this?"_

"_I told him the general theory. He'll need channelers, powerful stones, the whole shebang. He has Arithromancers working on it as we speak. I'm supposed to be translating the stones, but I already know what they say."_

"_And that is?"_

"_We don't have all day, Headmaster; otherwise, I'd tell you. Let's just say I won't figure out a very important point until after the winter solstice."_

_The headmaster leaned back in his seat and observed Ginny for a moment. She didn't flinch under his gaze; she knew it bothered him that she didn't. It was only natural for a person with a conscience, but Ginny had lost that long ago. "What do you propose I do with this information?"_

"_I don't know. I'm only doing my...duty." Ginny spat out the last word as though it were a plague. Her DUTY. What a joke. "I'm just making sure Tom is killed. I'll get information to you someway or another; don't come look for me. I'm risking my life here."_

"_I realize this. I thank you, Miss Weasley. It seems I was wrong about you."_

"_Save it," she said sharply, not caring to whom she was talking. "I don't care. I know you were wrong, and I know what you wanted to do was wrong. Just let me do what I think is right and then disappear; that's all I want now."_

_The headmaster sighed heavily as she left. A beautiful mind in a beautiful and talented woman. It was all for naught. She should have been a Gryffindor.

* * *

_

But if I had been a Gryffindor, none of this would have happened, now would it? No, sure wouldn't. If I'd been a Gryffindor, I'd probably still be mooning over Harry Potter and thinking about how wonderful the world is. Draco would be even sicker than he was, and Lucius would be plotting away, except no one would know what. If I'd been a Gryffindor, I'd turn into a poster-Ginny, a picture of my real talent. One thing about Slytherin, it brings out the best in you. But the best things are always complimented with a good, solid layer of bad.

Speaking of Gryffindor vs. Slytherin, the first match of the season was coming. I'd been training with the rest of my team. Draco was captain again, with Crabbe and Goyle as our Beaters. Julius Flint, Adam Dolohov, and I were still the Chasers. Jonathan Wilkes was our star Keeper. We had a good team, sixth and seventh years all. We'd be a good team next year, too.

_Ginny pulled her broom to a stop as Draco called a break in practice. They'd been practicing extra hard for the match, but no one was complaining. This was the last year Draco could win the Cup. The way Ginny saw it, he deserved it just as much as Harry, maybe more because Harry had won it three times, and he'd only won it once. There was always that competition for the best between those two; Ginny saw it constantly. She was glad her advanced classes didn't include either of them, or she might have to kill one or both._

"_Hold up," Draco said. "What do they think they are doing?"_

_Ginny looked down on the field and saw a few Gryffindors crowding on the ground. She could see Ron pointing in their direction; Harry was trying to calm him down. "I don't know. What did you do?"_

"_I didn't do jack," Draco answered. The rest of their team flew over to Ginny and Draco. "Any of you know what is going on?" No one did. They all flew to the ground to meet their visitors. Sure enough, Ron and Harry walked over with two others. _Insurance, _Ginny thought._

"_We need to talk to Ginny," Harry said plainly. Ron had a scowl on his face, as did the two boys they had with them, one fair haired and handsome, the other tall and dark. "It's about her family."_

_Ginny looked at Draco, who was staring coolly at Harry. "Keep it short, Potter."_

"_In private," Ron managed to growl. He seemed to be working very hard at not tackling Draco to the ground._

_Doing her best to avoid a fight, Ginny put a hand on Draco's forearm, giving him a reassuring look. He nodded, and she turned to Harry and Ron, both of whom looked slightly surprised that there wouldn't be any fighting. Ginny, who hadn't spoken the whole time, walked off the pitch as Ron and the other three Gryffindors followed her. The fair haired and dark boys fell in line beside her, as though she might try to run. She looked sideways at the blonde boy. He blushed and averted his blue eyes. Looking up at the tall, African boy through her eyelashes, she saw him blush as well and fall behind like the other. She loved power. One coy look and they were cowering like little girls._

_When Ginny was far enough from the field, she wheeled on her brother and the other three Gryffindors haughtily. "What the hell was that about, Ronald? You couldn't wait for after dinner? Wanted to spy on the practice? Gryffindors! Fair play and honesty, my foot!"_

"_Calm down, Ginny," Ron said, his fist shaking at his side. "It couldn't wait."_

"_Maybe I should handle this," Harry said calmly. He looked more controlled than Ron, whom she thought might blow a gasket soon. "Ginny, your father has been fired from his position at the Ministry. Malfoy got him fired."_

_Ginny looked blankly at the two. "And?"_

_At that, Ron shook with anger and roared off in the direction of the castle. The tall boy and the blonde boy were looking at her with something akin to disgust. Harry looked angry and disgusted as well, but it was more like disappointment. She wondered if Dumbledore had told him something. It would be dangerous if he had; she needed to get through different channels._

"_How can you say that, Ginny?" he asked quietly._

"_Easily," Ginny said defiantly. Turning to the two Gryffindors, she said, "Boys, take a walk!" To Harry's surprise, they did, and none too slowly. "Look, Harry. I don't have to explain myself to you. You understand this, right? You aren't anything to me. You never will be. If you think you can impress yourself on my life, you can't. Just let it rest already. Don't worry about Father, and tell Ronald not to worry either. Things are under control."_

_Harry was shaking his head slowly, his arms crossed and looking at the ground. "I wish you could see what you've done to your family. I don't think you'd be like this now if you could."_

"_Be like what?" Ginny spat. "I am what the world made me! Don't like it? Tough. Just remember while I still have the strength to look myself in the mirror every morning, I still have the strength to look you in the face. Don't think your act fools me."_

"_It isn't an act, Ginny. I'm worried about you; we all are."_

"_Yeah," she said, looking out over the trees and licking her lips. "Well, I'll see you, Harry; I've got practice."_

"_I'll wait for you," he said from behind her. Ginny kept on walking as he called after her. "Ginny, you and I will be together someday; you just wait."

* * *

_

Persistent as hell and as hot, too! Damn, when did he get so sexy? Physical attraction is a powerful thing; it's good I knew how to control myself. But damn, Harry had got fit over the summer. It wasn't like Draco, who looked like an angel and was really a devil, or Jonathan Wilkes, whose body was attractive and whose personality was alluring. Harry was just fit. I didn't like him, I didn't want to like him, but a girl can appreciate art when she sees it, and I saw it. He'd grown taller, his messy hair fell over his forehead in an I'm-not-trying-to-be-sexy-but-you-are-blind-if-you-don't-see-I-am sort of way, and his eyes sparked with some inner fire I couldn't help but be drawn to.

Thank Merlin I have my own center, or I would have been drawn to his. As I said, animal magnetism is a strong thing. So strong, in fact, I was intrigued by it. Not enough to test it in person, but a sort of study would be fun. Manipulating people was more Draco's game than mine, though I held a few good cards. I also had other things I could be doing...and yet the subject called to me.

Of course I went to the library; what else would I do? Being a prefect certainly had its perks; access to the Restricted Section was one of them.

* * *

_Ginny set the tower of books on the table and sank into the chair. She had a ton of homework; not to mention, she had to figure out the last half of the Incan translation, which was becoming more and more challenging. But she wanted to do this, even if she had to stay up all night._

_Hours later, she had finished her research, but she needed a subject – well, two, if it was going to work properly. She looked around the library discreetly and saw Hermione in one corner near a fifth year Slytherin girl and then another Ravenclaw, a handsome boy named Terry Boot. She knew him because he was one of the prefects and the Ravenclaw team captain. No one could really help her with her experiment in this room, but if she could get a Slytherin and a Gryffindor in the same room at the same time, it might work._

Hermione... _she thought. _I really need to get my first message to Dumbledore. She's smart; she'll be able to figure out a subtle hint. _She looked down the table, directly at Hermione. After a moment, Hermione must have felt the itching sensation of having eyes upon her, because she turned slowly to Ginny. Ginny kept her face emotionless; then she began blinking her eyes. _Read piece of paper I drop. End. Leave last. End. Don't open it in here. End. Invisible Ink. End. _Ginny repeated this a couple times until Hermione finally widened her eyes in understanding and nodded._

_Ginny scratched her first note to Dumbledore and got back to work.

* * *

_

Sneaky, sneaky, sneaky. Damn smart, too. It was risky with a Slytherin in there, but she didn't seem to know what was happening. I don't think people realize the social pyramid in the Slytherin common room. True Slytherins go into the room and know exactly where they fit. I walked in and was lost for all of three seconds before I figured out I wasn't wanted. But basically, this is how it goes:

At the bottom of the social pyramid are females who are stupid, but good for a fuck, basically dumb blonds with cash. If they are lucky, they marry someone higher than they are.

Next comes the group of idiot boys and a few girls, who have not so much as the upper class, but enough to talk about. They end up being the pseudo-friends of the upper class. Goyle and Crabbe are excellent examples.

After that come the intellectuals. Mostly people like Blaise Zabini. This class is made of girls for the most part, not necessarily the richest, but girls you want on your side. These are the sort of people who have wit and cleverness, so they can afford to lash anyone with their razor sharp tongues, even the upper class. The upper class puts up with this to a point because they realize they will be useful in the future.

The upper class is the rich, the rich and powerful people who throw their weight around and then hide under their father's coattails if threatened. Draco Malfoy was one of these people. As were Warrington, Wilkes, and Flint.

You are probably wondering where I fit. Well, it's simple really; I didn't. I happened to "make friends" with the most powerful boy in our school, and it is probably the only reason I'm still living. I'm the one in a thousand who is beautiful, powerful, and smart. I'm a good ally to have and an awful enemy. I'll give Draco some credit; he realized this before anyone, and he reaped the benefits.

You remember before, when I told you Brigid Allen was Lucius Malfoy's "concubine"? You remember when I said my life sort of mirrors hers? Try this on for size. I did my homework on Allen. She came from a family that was historically Hufflepuff. Her father, her father's father, her mother, her mother's mother, her three sisters and two brothers (all older) were Hufflepuff. She got sorted into Slytherin. Apparently, she did well (with, I suspect, the help of Malfoy Sr.) and was prefect her sixth year and Head Girl her seventh. She played Quidditch (Chaser, of course) and was a lead scorer for three years. She was reportedly the smartest girl in the school and, from what pictures I saw, very pretty. Is this sounding familiar? Yes? No? Undecided? I'll tell you what; it's fucking weird! She lives my life! Lived, I mean. And now she was evil and "worked" for Lucius Malfoy.

At this point, I wondered about my life a bit. Was I doomed to trace the steps of this woman? History repeats herself if you don't learn from her, or so I've been told. But on with the reason I asked you if you remembered her. She was caught. Yes, caught by a troop of Aurors, trying to get to Malfoy Senior one night. She killed four before they captured her. It was sad really. At the rate I was going, that was me in fifteen years. I didn't want to be that. I never wanted to be that. I wasn't going to let anyone turn me into THAT. But that would happen if I kept on with what I was doing.

At any rate, I found this all out a week or two after Halloween. It was in the _Daily Prophet_, but I got the real story from Draco...

* * *

_They had assumed their normal positions, Draco flipping through a book on her bed and Ginny brushing her hair at her vanity. It was a nicer room than her past years, probably because she was a prefect this year. She glanced at Draco out of the corner of her eye, and he winked at her before looking down at his book again._

"_I know you don't read Rousseau," Ginny said with a sigh. "You're going to make me ask, aren't you?"_

_Draco_ _looked up, trying to appear surprised and confused. "Why, what on earth are you talking about, Ginevra Weasley?"_

"_Don't 'Ginevra Weasley' me." Ginny rolled her eyes. "What is the deal with Allen and your father?"_

"_Well, when two people are attracted to each other –"_

"_Cut it out; I've had sex, remember? You know what I mean."_

_Draco_ _closed the philosophy book, and Ginny turned around in her chair. "You know how in the newspapers they said she was leaving the Estate?"_

_Ginny nodded her head._

"_She wasn't. Father owled me the real story and said if I told anyone, excluding you, of course, I'd be a dead man. But he was sending her to kill Antonio; you remember him? He betrayed us and told someone about the Intihuatana stone. So Snape told my father Antonio was a traitor and off went Father's assassin to kill Antonio."_

"_Wait, two things. Allen was a hit-witch?"_

"_It wasn't all about the sex. Father has other uses for her. If he wanted someone for sex, he'd get a nice whore."_

"_Okay, I can believe that. And Snape, how did he even know?"_

"_Father and Snape were best friends at Hogwarts, inseparable. Like Potter and Weasley...almost. But Snape is losing footing in the ranks because he doesn't give any more information about Potter for the Dark Lord."_

"_I don't understand how Allen and your father met."_

"_They were at Hogwarts together. Come to think of it, they were kind of like you and I..."_

"_I'm prettier," Ginny said as she turned back to her mirror. "I don't have that Merlin awful scar on my face."_

"_True. But there is something cold and beautiful about her. I can see why my father keeps her around. I mean, other than the fact she can kill nineteen full grown and armed wizards if she is put in a room of twenty. It's true; she did it before."_

"_Impressive. I want to know why. Obviously she doesn't love him."_

"_No, probably not."_

"_And I don't think it is money either; don't ask me why, I just don't."_

"_I couldn't say. But he doesn't pay her. She just does it."_

"_Blackmail?"_

"_No, if Father wants something, he has enough money to pay for it; he doesn't need blackmail. She is kind of like you; why are you friends with me?"_

"_I'll be killed if I'm not, and I can talk to you."_

"_Well, then," Draco said, lying back on her bed. "We have a winner."_

_Ginny stared at her reflection and tried to envision a scar there. Then she stood and looked at Draco. "Do you think I'll kill people for you when we grow up?"_

_His cold gray eyes softened for a half second. "I don't know if you'll kill people for me. But I've talked it over with my father, and once I get out of school, if I have to be married to Pansy, you'll probably be my lover. That is, I mean, if you want to."_

_Ginny wrapped her arms around her stomach and bit the inside of her lip. "I suppose. Better you than Warrington. Or Harry."_

_Draco_ _laughed. "He's in love with you, you know."_

_Ginny rolled her eyes and sat on the corner of her bed. "I know."_

"_So is our whole Quidditch team. Well, that is fascination and obsession, not love. But it's as close as Slytherins get to love."_

"_I know," she repeated._

"_And so is Millicent Bulstrode."_

_Ginny shivered. "Don't remind me. She creeps me out. She needs to be put on a leash or something...wait, how did you know that?"_

_Draco_ _snorted. "You're kidding, right? Half the house knows; everyone who isn't blind. Plus, Pansy doesn't stop talking about it. They are lovers, you know. She thought it would impress me if she went bisexual. It just disgusts me, really."_

"_She got fat," Ginny said. "Both of them."_

"_And I'm so looking forward to marrying that slow, fat, pug-looking bitch." He ran his fingers though his hair uncomfortably. "Ginevra, you know I don't get sentimental and soft often, but I don't want to get married, not unless it is to you."_

"_I know. I wouldn't even consider getting married to anyone if they weren't you. But we can't; we have to remember that."_

_Draco_ _nodded. "What do you think it would be like if it were different? If you and I were in Gryffindor or something."_

"_And Harry, Ron, and Hermione were in Slytherin?"_

_Draco_ _leaned back on her pillows and snorted. "Yeah."_

"_Easier probably._ _I wouldn't have to be your mistress."_

"_Do you think we'd love each other?"_

"_Yeah, I do."_

"_And we'd grow up and have a bunch of kids?" he said with a yawn._

"_Yeah," Ginny said, taking her cue from him and yawning as well. She lay down next to him on the bed and sighed. He put his arm around her shoulders as she scooted closer. "It's fun, imagining it's different."_

"_Yeah," Draco mumbled lazily. It was a good time for an afternoon nap. Ginny rolled over and flung her arm over Draco's chest before falling asleep.

* * *

_

You have to break down sometimes. You can't go back to being cold if you don't know what it is to feel warmth; it just doesn't work. But at least Draco and I could do it without losing our pride. I hate to think how the other Slytherins felt. Given, most of them didn't have as much to lose as either Draco or I, so most of them didn't have to be so cold. But still, they had to let loose sometimes; even if it was just for a little while. You have to feel, really feel. If you don't, you lose something, the part of you that is human. It isn't that I care about being human or not, or ever feeling again, but a certain level of understanding comes with the fact that you are a person. Under the ice, we are all the same really. We all have the need for contact. Not, of course, when I put on Nysilia's ring.

I finally figured out what that ring did. It's a curse, an abomination. It made me less human. To think Nysilia was actually a person once, for all the Virgins once were, is impossible. She must have lived her life like that. No feelings, no contact. I couldn't imagine a world without contact. I couldn't imagine a world without Draco. He was my stabilizer; I was his. We had a connection. If it had only been different...if...

Listen to me. If! Only fools live in the world of "if." If I hadn't been put in Slytherin. If Fred and George hadn't got me so angry. If I'd never had Tom's diary. If Tom had never tried to kill Harry. Hell, if Tom had never been born. There is a whole world of ifs out there, and none of them is reality. If I "if"-ed my life away, I'd really be an oracle, and I'd deserve the seat at Delphi.

But I didn't. I lived in the present, the only thing besides Draco which kept me sane. The only way to live is in the present. Live in the past, and you'll get lost. Live in the future, and you'll lose your footing on the path. Live in the present, and see your enemies and friends alike for what they really are.

It was a twisted life I lived, a twisted life of deceit and complications. I would grow up and kill people for Draco, the great circle of life. Or at least, I thought so. Some things happened though...but not yet. Don't be hasty, don't be hasty, all in time; these things go chronologically, you know.

Enough of that deep shit. I have a story to tell. I'm sure you are dying to know the turnout of the Gryffindor vs. Slytherin match.

* * *

_It was that time of year again. Quidditch time. The time when boys and girls ran rampant in the halls, some causing havoc and others fleeing from it. The time when tempers flew higher than Quaffles and people basically –

* * *

_

Annoyed the living shit out of me. Sorry to interrupt. Moving on.

* * *

_It was Ginny's least favorite time of year. Draco would flaunt her all over the school, trying to see whose chain he could pull. She knew he loved it; he relished in causing people to lose their control. All Ginny had to do was pretend to be blithely unconcerned and let Draco do basically whatever he wanted to/with her._

_At that moment, Draco was advertising the fact that he could use Ginny any way he wanted right in front of Harry, Ron, and their two Gryffindor friends. Ginny sat on his lap on a bench near the fountain, indifferent as he kissed her neck and played with her long, red hair._

"_Come on, loosen up a bit," Draco murmured into her neck as he ran his knuckles up and down her bare arm._

"_This is stupid," Ginny complained, turning to face him. She leaned her forehead against his. "And boring. As much as public masturbating sounds fun FOR YOU, I'll pass. Besides, it'll make them angrier if we leave. Then they won't know what we're doing."_

_Draco_ _paused; then a smirk played on his lips. "You are a very smart woman, Ginevra."_

"_I know," she said imperiously as she rose from his lap and took his hand._

_It worked; just as they left, Ron and Harry went following after them. Draco saw this, and Ginny noticed a smirk growing on his face. "You're the devil," Ginny whispered._

"_I haven't even begun," he said quietly. With that, he rounded the corner sharply and backed Ginny against the wall, kissing her forcefully. It was so unexpected from him, and Ginny let out a small squeak. He pressed her harder against the wall as Ginny wrapped a white calf sinuously around his leg. "Stop it," he said quickly._

_Ginny smiled into his neck. She knew this was his fetish of a sort, and it drove him absolutely wild. "You started it," she shot back playfully. She ran her foot up and down his calf and listened as he practically purred._

_"Ahem!" an angry voice said from behind Draco. Ginny saw Draco smirk evilly and wink before turning around. Right on time, Ron and Harry showed up as her knight protectors._

_"Is there a problem?" Draco asked, purposefully straightening his robes._

_"Problem!"__ Ron exploded. "Problem? Why would there be a problem? You're only groping my sister in front of HALF THE SCHOOL!"_

_"Is that all?" Draco said tiredly. "She's my girlfriend, Weasley; I can pretty much do anything I want."_

_A shadow fell over the students, but the only one who noticed was Ginny. It was Snape, towering in the hallway, the backs of the boys partially towards him. Ginny noticed, but she pretended not to._

_"Maybe you should watch who you are talking about," Harry growled. "I'm sure Ginny doesn't like being treated like that."_

_"I'm sure _Ginevra _would tell me if she had a problem," Draco retorted. "And since when is it your business, Potter? Don't tell me you love _my _girlfriend? You do? This is just too rich! Potter is in love with _my _girlfriend!"_

_"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry growled._

_Ginny just crossed her arms and put her weight on one hip, waiting for the little scuffle to end. She blew a piece of hair out of her face as if she'd never been to a duller place. "Let's go, Draco," she said pointedly. "I'm bored of this."_

_"Quite," Draco agreed. They turned to walk to their common room._

_"_Furnunculus!_"__ Harry cried loudly._

_The blazing rod of magic narrowly missed Draco and soared past his head. Before anyone could do anything, Snape came out from the shadows, looking moodier than he had in a while. "Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter, dueling in the hallways? My, my, my, that just won't do. Fifty points from Gryffindor and detention for a week. Mr. Malfoy, why don't you head along? I have a Potions paper to discuss with Miss Weasley."_

_"See you tonight, Ginevra," Draco said casually, walking down the hall. Snape followed Harry and Ron with his eyes until they were both out of sight and then began walking; Ginny followed, doing her best to catch up with his long legs.

* * *

_

It was nearly perfect. In a room alone with Snape, my "victim." A chance for Miss Ginevra Weasley to test her skills of manipulation and seduction. What? Pass up this chance? Never! Plus, if I was going to be a good spy on Malfoy, I was going to have to convince him I was on his side. If that meant I had to seduce his "best friend," fine, just fine.

But how was the question. The answer was simple. Malfoy had told me Snape had been in love with Lily, Harry's mother. So had Lupin and Black and a lot of other people. I sort of looked like her, the hair and face a bit. But her eyes were green, Harry's eyes. That was easily remedied. It is called Transfiguration; I'm very good at it. Green one minute; brown the next.

* * *

_He motioned for her to sit in the seat opposite him, and she did. He observed her for a moment, leaning back in his seat and trying to look intimidating. But she wasn't intimidated, and, as with Dumbledore, this bothered him._

_"Miss Weasley," he began, "I'll be frank. I don't know what game you are playing, but it's dangerous; quit while you're ahead."_

_Ginny pretended to look confused. "I don't know what you are talking about, Professor."_

_Snape frowned and stood. Slowly he paced from his fire to his seat and back again. "I won't sugar coat this. Dumbledore fears for your life." Ginny blinked her eyes, and they were green. "He thinks going to Malfoy Estate was detrimental to your health and you should ease out of your friendship with Draco Malfoy as soon as you can." He looked at her and stopped. Ginny blinked her eyes, and they were brown again. He frowned, trying to decide if he were seeing things or not, and continued. "Your information about Malfoy's plans has been invaluable." Green. "And Antonio, one of our best international spies, is alive because of it." Brown. "Dumbledore was especially impressed with your way of leaking knowledge through Hermione Granger, ingenious really." Green. "We are aware of your correspondence with Malfoy Senior and think it is unhealthy." Brown._

_She could tell she was getting under his skin. The way he would pause every now and then was proof enough that she was succeeding. His breath was a little faster; Hina's ring could sense it. _Now for a little juice,_ Ginny thought._

_"So...so...the headmaster...thinks you should..."_

_"Are you okay, Professor?" she asked, taunting him a bit. He didn't even realize she was the one doing it to him. Her eyes flashed back to green momentarily and then to brown._

_"I must not be feeling well," Snape said, sitting dumbly in his seat at the desk._

_"I'll go then," she said quietly. "I'll keep what you said in mind, but, Professor, you really should look after yourself. You look a little hot; maybe Madam Pomfrey could get you something to help."_

_Looking very confused, Snape nodded and waved her out of the room. Ginny smiled to herself and headed to her common room.

* * *

_

I know; I'm a manipulative bitch. We all have our talents. But I didn't do anything. I simply made him think about doing something. Were it a crime to be beautiful, I'd have been in Azkaban long ago.

But on with the story. Gryffindor vs. Slytherin. Oh, exciting.

* * *

_It had become a familiar thing to play Quidditch in the rain. The last few years, she'd played a couple of times, as well as the practices lately. Ginny walked out on the field and was soaked immediately, her Warming Charm doing little against the bitter winds._

_"The Quaffle is up!" fifth year Gryffindor Constance Magdalene, the new announcer since _ _Rhonda Lane__ left school, said into the crowds. "And the Quaffle is taken by Hurricane Weasley, starting the season with a bang! Hurricane to _ _Flint_ _Flint__ to Hurricane, Hurricane to the goals and blocked by Dean Thomas, seventh year, Gryffindor Keeper. Looks like he's improved. Good for Gryffindor to have a bit of experience on their field. There are four seventh years on Gryffindors team, but their other players are inexperienced fourth and fifth years. While Slytherin has only three seventh years, their other players are practiced sixth years all._

_"A nice Hawkshead Attacking Formation by Slytherin.__ Hurricane is in the middle, flanked by _ _Flint__ and Dolohov. Superior flying by the Slytherins down the pitch, and Hurricane scores: ten to zero, Slytherin lead. Will this be a cliché Gryffindor vs. Slytherin game, or will Malfoy be able to actually catch the Snitch this time around?" A general laughter was heard from the crowd, and Ginny frowned. "And will Hurricane be able to affect the outcome of this game?" That did it. She worked fucking hard every match she played, and this fifth year was not only slamming her, but Draco._

_"Flint, Dolohov, play catch for a while; I have something to see to!" Ginny yelled at her teammates. They nodded in recognition, and Ginny shot to the announcing box. Flying from her goal posts, she shot at Magdalene._

_"Oh, no," Magdalene said weakly. Then scrambling to get out of the way, she jumped from her seat and flung herself at the ground._

_Ginny stopped three inches short of where Magdalene was sitting, yelling, "Didn't your mummy ever tell you if you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all!?! Get on with the commentary, Gryffindor!" She sneered at the cowering Gryffindor and took off._

_Shooting towards play, Ginny was tossed the Quaffle by _ _Flint__. Rolling to the side to avoid a Bludger, she heaved the Quaffle at Dolohov. It was stolen by her brother, who rushed to the Slytherin goals and shot. It missed, and that was about the time Magdalene got the courage to start talking again._

_"And Hurricane with the toss from Wilkes. Wait! Potter sees the Snitch! I see the Snitch! And Potter has it! Potter has the Snitch! I can't believe it! Ten minutes! What a match! Slytherin can't be happy about this. If I were Malfoy, I'd be upset."

* * *

_

And he was. Oh, he was. I'd never seen Draco as mad as he was that night. He ranted and raved for hours. Ten minutes! Good Merlin! Harry had got good, better than Draco, and he hated it. More than anything, Draco hated to lose. He hated to lose to Harry more than that. This was the last chance he'd have to play Harry, and Harry had got the best of him for the last time. Furious wasn't how I would describe it. He was beside himself with irate rage. He was livid as bloody hell, and no one was safe from his wrath. Well, I was. But Pansy wasn't when she tried to "heal" him. He cursed Goyle and Crabbe. The boys in my year stayed safe enough away. Practices got harder. If Ravenclaw beat Gryffindor (for Hufflepuff couldn't), and Slytherin beat all the other teams badly enough, we still had a chance. Draco knew this and drilled us to death almost every night for a month.

By that time, it was finals and then Yule Ball. I guess I was looking forward to the dance this year. It would be Draco's last dance. He wanted to take me, but his father forbade it. I still find it amazing how Malfoy had so much power over Draco's life. It isn't right that a father should live his son's life. Apart from making Draco weaker, it wasn't fair to make decisions for him. Draco should have learned, not simply been told; you don't learn that way.

A few interesting people asked me to the dance. Crabbe and Goyle being two of them...I shiver to think what it would be like to be their dates. A fifth year Gryffindor actually asked me. I guess it is true (for I would never know); Gryffindors really are that brave. I was asked by a sixth year Ravenclaw prefect too, Jeremiah Quest. I was always nice (kind of) to the people who asked me and let them know I could only go with a Slytherin. The Ravenclaw seemed to understand this, but the Gryffindor looked confused.

I should have seen it coming. I knew that Wilkes had liked me since...well, for a long time. I correct myself. He didn't like me at all. He was fascinated by me. How could a person so beautiful, so perfect, be so cold and unforgiving? Plus, I was the person to whom he lost his virginity. We were okay friends, better friends than I was with any other boy in my year. What I didn't know was he had developed quite an unhealthy obsession with me.

* * *

_"Ginevra?" a voice said from behind Ginny as she was in the library. She was writing her paper, having decided a study on animal magnetism would be too hard to construct. A paper on it would be interesting though._

_"Yes," she answered, turning to look at Jonathan Wilkes. He sat down beside her on the library table._

_"Who are you going to the Yule Ball with?" he asked casually._

_"I've had a few people ask; no one I wanted to go with. So no one yet. Is that an invitation?" she said slyly._

_He smirked warily. "Yes."_

_Ginny leaned back in her seat and looked speculatively at Wilkes. He was no doubt the nicest looking boy in her year, besides Rosier. But she didn't want to go with any of her teammates, well, excluding Malfoy. "No," she said simply, getting back to her work. Playing with people was fun._

_"You'd rather go with _ _Flint__ or Dolohov?" he questioned. He sounded not at all put off, but slightly amused._

_"No."_

_"Then who would you like to go with?"_

_"Evan Rosier," she answered flatly. She would, actually, rather go with Rosier. Wilkes was getting, not so much clingy, as protective. Just because he knew some things about Ginny other people didn't, he thought he could treat her like Draco did. It wasn't abnormal for Slytherins to act like that. Slytherins were innately protective and possessive. It was a trait of which Ginny had a bit, but the drive for power was stronger in her._

_He frowned, and Ginny looked up at him. "It isn't personal, Jonathan. Actually, I'd like to go with you. But as you remember, I left the Yule Ball with you last year. If people saw me entering this one with you, they'd get ideas about our involvement, which is, as you remember, non-existent. Maybe next year. This year, I have to come and leave with someone different. It's for my safety and yours, too."_

_Wilkes' frown deepened as he thought about this. "I see your logic. Just remember to save me a dance, Ginevra."_

_"I'll save you more than that," Ginny replied. "But later. Right now I have homework and a splitting headache. I don't know if I've told you this, but I like you, Wilkes; I don't know why."_

_He smirked and nodded. Then he stood and left._ Thank Merlin, _Ginny said to herself._ Now on with my paper.

* * *

I had a plan for my paper. It would be short, only one page, and it would be about the animal magnetism in my school. Most likely it would be inappropriate for young people...but who cared!? One week before the ball and the week of finals, I did a Multiplying Charm and let them loose on the school. The papers would be distributed about the school in secret by the oh-so-helpful house-elves as they did their rounds.

Not even then could I guess what would happen the day I let my creation loose.

* * *

_Ginny was sitting at her table next to Draco as she drank her pumpkin juice. The house-elves had just finished putting the stacks of papers around the school, and she could see people reading her paper and looking at her thoughtfully now and then. Ginny didn't mind it. They had a right to be shocked by what they read. She even saw a couple of professors reading her paper; McGonagall especially looked nonplussed._

_"Ahem," the headmaster said, bringing the school's attention to him. "I'm sure most of you have seen the newest publication at Hogwarts. I would like to take this moment to give some recognition to the author, if, of course, she doesn't mind. A fine paper, Miss Weasley. For those of you who don't know what I'm talking about or haven't read this excellent essay, I'll inform you now._

_"The Loadstone House_

_"by G. M. Weasley_

_"Light versus dark. Hope versus despair. White versus black. Forgiveness versus revenge. Fire versus ice. Good versus bad. Gryffindor versus Slytherin._

_"The startling paradox started before any of us graced the grounds of _ _Hogwarts_ _School__ of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It became apparent to our four founders – Rowena Ravenclaw, Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, and Salazar Slytherin – that a certain animosity flamed between the houses of Godric and Salazar. An infinitely strong magnetism and repulsion grew between the two great men, and it passed down to their disciples._

_"Why though? Why these two houses? Surely, Helga and Rowena were opposite enough to create this sort of bond, if you will. One of these women valued wit, intelligence, quickness, and mental agility, while the other valued humility, kindness, work ethic, and a solid, loyal streak. Why not a similar paradox with Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff? The answer is simple. Do not be offended by what I have to say. Noble and good people have come out of both those houses. But Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff lack the spark. The one thing that distinguishes the good from the great._

_"After all, Slytherins and Gryffindors are known for doing great things. Some great and terrible, but great nonetheless. They are the doers. They are the people who stand up and follow through. For even Voldemort did great things; though they were terrible, they were great and ground-shaking._

_"This is why there is the animosity. A certain competition between the houses of Godric and Salazar. But no matter the similarities, Gryffindor and Slytherin will forever be polar opposites. Salazar desired power and, for all his ambition, was blinded by hate. Godric valued bravery, nobility, courage, and fair play. Classic powerful men, classic good versus evil._

_"But who says? It's I who was put in Slytherin; unless you are a Slytherin, you don't know what it is like. Society has judged us, waved us around as the harbingers of war, the haters, the sinners, the evil ones. Society has a vision of black and white that is seldom shaken or broken. The desire for an enemy and their blood has blinded many people in the past._

_"Grindelwald was one of them. Dumbledore will affirm (and I do) that Grindelwald was once a boy by the name of Louis Merewether, a fine Gryffindor and a fine person. Merewether hated the dark powers, and Slytherins were his scapegoats. But once you kill, a part of you is lost, a part that makes you unmistakably human. If you kill enough, that part which was human is lost; your connection with your soul is severed._

_"This happened to Merewether, and good lives were forfeit. Headmaster Dumbledore had to stop it, and he did. This happened to a boy named Tom Marvolo Riddle or, as we know him, Lord Voldemort._

_"Here is where the magnetism comes in. If we, I mean of course the Slytherins, are indeed evil, we must have a weakness, a factor that can be exploited for our destruction. To point it out, it would be curiosity. We are curious. What makes you tick, kindly Hufflepuff? How can you be so nice with all the evil in the world? Why are you so vibrant, Gryffindor? How are you able to stand up to the evil? How can you go back to living in a world where so much bad has happened? How can it be the same?_

_"Our curiosity is fueled by their ability to become enraged quickly. Emotions are foreign and dangerous in the Slytherin common room. It's intoxicating to see life in another's eyes, when all you've seen is cold detachment. It's intriguing to see a person of fire, a person with so much emotion and love. How strange it is to have something for which to live, a drive made by something outside of yourself. Why protect people who will just get hurt anyway? Why feel the need to have things righted that were wronged? Isn't it all the same? We don't understand; we don't have the capacity to love, to feel. It isn't valued; it isn't needed. We don't know why; we can't see the reason. You need motivation, right? What is the motivation? We are blind to your world, your emotions, to your brightness. The light shines brighter in the dark, and it's dark in the dungeons and deep places of the world. Moths are drawn to the light._

_"So, of course, we are drawn to them. They are fascinating. But we are also aware we can't live with them, have a working relationship. Animal magnetism only goes so far. I wish I could say it is one-sided. But it isn't. We don't force Gryffindors into our lives to play with them. We are delighted and amazed by their emotions, their purity, but it has never been one-sided._

_"Gryffindors wonder what makes us tick. How can people so cold still be living? How can people embrace a doom like that and still function every morning, be able to look at their reflection in the mirror? There is the innate need to save in the heart of every Gryffindor. 'Everyone is basically good' is what they are taught. 'Everyone has a spark of light in their soul, even the coldest Slytherin.' I wish I could say this is true, but I can't. I can't because I don't know; none of us does. But questioning ourselves isn't what Slytherins do. This is what draws the Gryffindors our way. The cold is a nice break from a searing fire._

_"The loadstone rock is an iron ore with magnetic properties. Gryffindor and Slytherin are two houses with similar magnetic abilities. If I had the ability, I would divine the reason for the hatred, for the malice. I can't, however; no one can. Resentment grew between the houses. How can the Slytherins shut off their emotions like that? How can they pretend nothing is wrong or needs fixing in this awful world? How can the Gryffindors think they are better than everyone, as if they own the planet? Who died and made them the ultimate race of the universe? To put it simply, no one understands. Slytherins don't understand emotion, and Gryffindors don't understand how we can't understand emotion. A vicious cycle of attraction and hate. A vicious pattern history and society has encouraged._

_"Who can step beyond their bounds? Who has that right? The answer is no one. We can't break the circle; it wasn't meant to be broken, nor was it meant to be adjusted. None of us here has the power to change what has been so deeply engrained in our minds and morals (or lack thereof). And we are happy like that. It's how it has always been done, and all chance of redemption has gone beyond all hope or desire or ability. This is the way it has been done for countless centuries and will be done forever more. Never fear though, Slytherin and Gryffindor will both live. We've managed to stay alive yet, and neither of us is looking particularly frail. Sleep well, sweet Hogwarts; time has not yet caught up with you."_

_Ginny watched as all heads turned to her. It sounded different when Dumbledore read it, more professional, more informed, yet colder. Draco put a hand on her forearm, and Dumbledore spoke again. "I congratulate you on your work of art, Miss Weasley, and would like to see you in my office to talk about it later. Now! Resume eating, everyone!" _

_No one did much eating. Most people either stared at Ginny's paper or Ginny herself. She guessed it was something new, something they could amuse themselves with until the dance came. She ignored the stares, the looks, the blind hatred in some cases, and the admiration in others._

_Ginny didn't care what these people thought, what they guessed about her or her life. It was her life, and only she had to live it, not them._

_Eventually, the meal ended, and Ginny walked the long mile to Dumbledore's study, not truly sure what he wanted. When she walked in, she saw the strangest sight – Sirius Black and Severus Snape in the same office, and Dumbledore nowhere to be seen. She arched a delicate eyebrow and looked at the two dark men. It was startling, the similarities. Both were tall and dark with pale skin and lanky hair. Both had the hallowed look one would expect to find in a dead man's eye. And both looked furious, though not really at her._

_"Where's Dumbledore? He said he wanted to talk to me," Ginny said sharply, having no desire whatsoever to stay in a room with both of them._

_Snape frowned and said acidly, "He's been detained by the Boy Wonder."_

_Black growled in warning, and Ginny said, "Well...what are you two doing here?"_

_Snape sneered at her. "We don't rightly know. You seem to be pretty high on the headmaster's list of important people; why don't you tell us?"_

_Ginny looked from tall, dark man to tall, dark man, then sat in a seat, crossing her legs. "Lucius," she said simply._

_"Malfoy?"__ Black questioned. "What's he got to do with it?"_

_"Miss Weasley," Snape spat, "stayed the summer with young Malfoy at Malfoy Estate. She found out some interesting things."_

_"That's what the headmaster wants to talk about." Ginny re-crossed her legs and noticed how Black's eyes widened almost imperceptibly. _Interesting_, Ginny thought. "He must not have understood my latest communication. The real question is, however, why you two are here. I don't understand what you have to do with it. You," she said to Black, flashing green, then brown, eyes at him, "are supposed to be on the run. And you," she said, repeating the procedure on Snape, "aren't even supposed to know yet."_

_"That will all be explained," Dumbledore said as he whisked into the office, sitting at his desk. "I need to know what your last message meant, Miss Weasley."_

_Ginny sighed and closed her eyes. "It will be hard. The whole procedure is in ancient Incan; we don't even have some of the words for the process."_

_"Try then," Snape practically growled._

_Dumbledore gave Snape a look and said, "Don't mind him; he just didn't understand the potion needed to complete the channeling."_

_Ginny absently drew little circles on her knee as she thought. It wasn't easy to explain..._

_"I'll try; tell me to stop if you don't understand something." The headmaster nodded, and Ginny continued. "All right. I was reading the glyphs and found there are four days of the year when Tom can get power from the stone. They are the vernal equinox, the summer solstice, the autumnal equinox, and the winter solstice. He'll want to do the infusion on the winter solstice, as that is when the dark powers of the Incan gods are strongest. The hours of darkness outweigh the hours of light so much that he won't be able to resist the temptation. I'll discover this sometime near the vernal equinox; after all, I have school and other things to worry about."_

_"Such as?" Black asked, playing with his goatee._

_"Finding out things for Malfoy, like where you are hiding," she said to him. "Or," she said to Snape, "how loyal you are to his cause." She rolled her eyes and continued. "He doesn't see six inches in front of his face. He thinks he is so close no one can stop him. He's blind."_

_"We should attack now," Black said forcefully._

_"I hate to admit it," Snape said coolly, "but Black is right. If he is weak..."_

_Ginny's eyes flashed from the two men to Dumbledore. "I wouldn't," Ginny warned._

_"Why is that, Miss Weasley?" Dumbledore asked.

* * *

_

At this point I had to think fast. I needed an excuse to prolong this. Deep inside I knew it was the wrong time. But how could I convince them of it? Well, there was one way.


	12. Year Six, Part Four, Sacrificed

**CHAPTER TWELVE: Year Six, Part Four, Sacrificed**

"Better a thousand times to die with glory than to live without honor."

– Louis VI

* * *

I can see the future when I put on Morgana and Nysilia's rings. However, they don't know this; they think it is innate, something with which I'm born. A little white lie can go a long way, if you let people come to their own conclusions. You'll see what I mean.

* * *

_"I don't think we should," Ginny said desperately. "It doesn't feel right. It isn't supposed to happen like that."_

_"You've seen this, felt it in the future?" Dumbledore asked. Ginny nodded her head. Lying was easy when too cold to have a heartbeat._

_"Then when?" Black asked impatiently. "If you are all-knowing, when?!"_

_"I never said I was all-knowing!" Ginny cried. "I never said that! All I'm saying is it's a mistake. If you go through with it, you will fail. That is that. As to when you should...I guess I could look...later."_

_Dumbledore nodded. "Send it by way of Hermione Granger."_

_"She hasn't told anyone, has she?" Ginny asked carefully. "It is dangerous for me to be doing this. I want to make sure it isn't top priority news in Gryffindor common room."_

_"She hasn't told anyone," Dumbledore reassured her. "Now there is that issue of your paper, 'The Loadstone House.' Really quite good, but a punishable offence, or so Filch informs me."_

_"You are going to punish me for exercising my right to freedom of press?" Ginny coughed out, trying not to laugh._

_"It keeps Filch happy," Dumbledore said with a smile. "I'll get you an easy, two hour detention with Professor Lupin, straightening up after a third year Defense lesson or something. Besides, you need an excuse to be in here."_

_Ginny snorted. "All right. Was there anything else? Draco is probably suspicious by now."_

_"There was one other thing," Dumbledore said. "I believe you know what I'm talking about, when I say I've found your secret."_

_Ginny smirked lightly. "Is that so?"_

_"Harry's just told me of his latest dream," Dumbledore continued. "He said the man told him about a prophecy made by an Egyptian woman by the name of Reonet. He says he suspects you are the third wheel of the prophecy, a Virgin Of Light."_

_Ginny raised an eyebrow casually. "Well, I don't know what Harry thinks he knows, but if he thinks I'm this 'Virgin Of Light' character, he's wrong. I can't be her; it is impossible."_

_"Maybe you are and you don't know it," Black suggested._

_Ginny looked at him pointedly and said, "Do you really want to delve that deeply into the sex life of a sixteen-year-old girl, Mr. Black?" To her surprise and delight, he managed a light blush and looked away. "I thought not."_

_"Be that as it may," the headmaster said, "Harry believes you carry many traits of this woman, whoever she is. The clairvoyance, the ability to learn quickly and efficiently –"_

_"All traits anyone could have," Ginny finished. "I think I'd know if I were this 'Virgin' woman of whom you speak. And hypothetically, if I were, why would I want any of you to know? It's preposterous. Now, if you don't mind, it is late, and I have a curfew."_

_Dumbledore hesitated a moment, then nodded. As Ginny was leaving, she managed to catch the last scraps of their conversation._

_"Her heartbeat didn't increase at all," Black said. "She didn't think she was lying...I think."_

_"Maybe not," Snape said languidly. "But she knows something; I can feel it."_

_"Is she really on our side?" Black asked._

_"Who knows?" Snape said with a sigh._

_"I haven't quite lost faith in her yet," she heard Dumbledore say as she walked out of hearing range.

* * *

_

Damn straight! Give me a little credit here people! I'm doing this to save the world, not to mention I'm doing the right thing. It is unheard of for a Slytherin to act like this. It is basically a law that Slytherins follow the dark powers. Some people (people not in Slytherin) say we aren't all like that. They say we must have good left in us. "Look at Snape!" they say. Well, I'll let you in on a little secret: Snape was a Death Eater for close to ten years. Is that an act of an innocent man? No. That is the act of a Slytherin. He is a quitter. The first thing he'll do if Tom gets back in power is submit to him, watch it happen...if it does...and it won't...but if it did...yeah. Truthfully, everyone in Slytherin knows their place in the grand scheme of things and knows they will serve Tom at some point, no matter how insignificant their role. Anyone who tells you otherwise is either lying, stupid, or talking out their arse.

Detention was interesting. I learned a lot of things that night, some things I'd rather not know, other things that were vital...and something else too. You see, I was – stop right there. I'll bring you straight to that Wednesday, three days from Yule Ball.

* * *

_Ginny strode casually into Lupin's room, unsurprised to see him marking papers and generally looking tired and worn. Remembering her Astronomy class, it was full moon a few days from then, so it made sense._

_"Ah, Miss Weasley," Lupin said kindly. He always had been nice to Ginny, no matter what house she was in or what she was supposed to be. He never judged her, or anyone for that matter. He was kind and understanding. Ginny thought he should have been a Hufflepuff. "How nice to see you. I read your paper; it was very insightful to the mind of both Slytherin and Gryffindor. I commend you."_

_"Thank you, Professor Lupin." Ginny smiled. "What would you like me to do?"_

_Lupin grinned. "Would you like to restock my supplies? It's easy really; just put the items in those boxes onto their labeled spots on the shelf."_

_"All right," she agreed. Lupin went back to grading his papers, and Ginny shuffled through the boxes and organized his things. It must have been forty-five minutes later when the door burst open and Snape walked in like he owned the place. Ginny would have jumped and screamed had she any less control over her nerves._

_"We have a problem, Remus," Snape said sharply._

_"Oh?" Lupin said mildly._

_"I don't have enough wolfsbane to complete the potion. I need some by _ _midnight__, or the potion will be useless. Do you have any? Hogsmeade doesn't have any in stock."_

_"Oh, dear," Lupin said, looking grayer than usual. Ginny stopped working and turned to watch the two men, one of them towering and the other only slightly intimidating with his tattered robes and tired eyes. "This is a problem. There's no way..."_

_"No," Snape answered shortly._

_Ginny chose this point to cough lightly, trying to draw some attention to herself._

_"Yes, Miss Weasley?" Snape practically growled._

_Ginny scowled. "I just wanted to let you know, I know where some grows wild in the forest. During Care of Magical Creatures, we were tracking, and Professor Hagrid pointed it out, though he called it Damian's Brush."_

_"Do you know where to find it again?" Lupin asked steadily._

_Ginny nodded._

_"Would you be opposed to going out there and finding it again?" Lupin asked._

_"No."_

_Lupin sighed heavily and turned back to Snape. "There, all solved. I'll bring it to you in time."_

_Snape nodded and left. "Miss Weasley?" Lupin said once Snape was gone. "Do you think you could find it yourself? I have rather a lot of work, and as I'll be gone for the next few days, I'd appreciate if you could help me."_

_Gathering her cloak, she said, "I'll be back. I don't know how long it will take me, but I'll find it."_

_Ginny threw the hood over her head as she left for the forest. It wasn't an ideal night to be traipsing about the grounds in her school skirt and blouse, but she couldn't say no. Besides, he was a werewolf. They killed people. She couldn't watch people die; she just couldn't._

_Ginny shivered and pulled her cloak tighter to her. Entering the forest, she suddenly became aware of how dark it was, despite the waxing gibbous in the sky, and lit her way with a simple charm. It was chill yet comfortable in the forest. Sounds and smell foreign to the light came alive at night, and Ginny found peace in the relatively chaotic world for a moment. Unfortunately, she couldn't find the patch of wolfsbane she'd been so sure was on the trail._

_Making an even stupider decision than staying on the trail and going deeper in the forest, she left the trail and went deeper into the forest. Soon it became apparent to Ginny that she was completely, utterly, and miserably lost. Exhaling sharply, she looked around for the path. There wasn't one in sight, of course._

_"Point me!" she said, holding her wand out in her palm. The wand's point automatically turned north. The castle was to the south of the _ _Forbidden_ _Forest__. So Ginny started south. That was until she heard something. Stiffening, she gripped her wand and reached out with Morgana and Nysilia's rings. Nothing. She could have sworn she'd felt something._

_"Hello?" she called tentatively. "Is there anyone out there? I'm a student at Hogwarts; I've lost my way."_

_There was a deep silence, and then a tall, shadowy form appeared in the dark trees. It stood forward, and Ginny saw it was a centaur. She brought her fingers to her lips and stifled a gasp. It was magnificent, wreathed in silvery moonlight, shimmering ethereal glows coming from its blue-gray hide. He was powerful, tall, and slightly intimidating. The centaur spoke with an impassioned, deep voice. "Virgin From Light. What are you doing in the forest?"_

_"Ah...ah...I was sent to collect wolfsbane...for my professor..." she managed to choke._

_The blue centaur regarded her with caution, then nodded. "I see. My name is _ _Firenze__. What is your name, Virgin From Light?"_

_"Ginevra Weasley," Ginny answered, gaining a bit of her control back._

_Firenze__ frowned. "A serpent I see in you, Ginevra Weasley. Fire and ice, as well."_

_Ginny brought her eyes to that of the centaur. "Well, we can't all be pure and good, can we, _ _Firenze__?"_

_He nodded. "You will come with me, Virgin From Light Ginevra Weasley. You will meet Lord Saiph."_

_Ginny searched the face of the magnificent beast. He didn't seem to want to harm her; why would a centaur? So she followed closely. Ginny noticed, every now and then, _ _Firenze__ looked toward the sky, as if expectant to see some sign in the heavens._

_"What is it?" she asked._

_"The Alignment," _ _Firenze__ answered. "It comes closer with each year. It is very close now."_

_"The Alignment?"_

_"Of the planets. All nine. It happens every so often. I am both cursed and gifted to see it."_

_"Why?"_

_"It's the opening of the Nine Portals of Power. Surely they teach you this at Hogwarts."_

_Ginny had never heard of the Nine Portals of Power...but that didn't stop her from not liking the sound of it. "I'm only in sixth year," Ginny answered diplomatically. "But tell me."_

_Firenze__ looked at the sky again. He was silent for a long while. "Ginevra Weasley, have you ever heard of the Intihuatana stone?"_

_Ginny's insides froze. "Yes."_

_"So you know on the solstices the sun strikes the Intihuatana in such a way that magic is derived from the stone. When angled with all the planets excluding Earth behind it, the solstice creates the power a thousand fold. What is even more amazing, it can be captured." _ _Firenze__ stopped and looked skyward again. "One year's time..."_

_Ginny stared up at the sky, but wasn't practiced enough to point out all the planets, or even half of them. _ _Firenze__ was silent as he led her through the deep forest. Soon, they came to two twin pillars of pure white marble. They shone brighter and purer than the moon, and Ginny gasped at the sight of them. Through the pillars, there were gardens, fountains, green, fertile valleys – a regular Elysian Fields. There were nearly twenty centaurs centered around a great, silver-black rock, all with one hand on the rock and their eyes to the heavens. Every once in a while, they would speak in a mysteriously beautiful language, and a scribe would record it on a piece of long parchment._

_"Oracles?"__ Ginny questioned _ _Firenze_

_Firenze__ nodded. "Our most experienced and farthest-seeing oracles, or 'lesoras' in our language."_

_Ginny looked at the black-silver rock again, then at Morgana's ring. They appeared to be made of the same substance. _Funny,_ Ginny thought, _I always figured it was obsidian. I should have known; obsidian doesn't have this silver a glow in moonlight.

_Soon, Ginny was standing in the middle of a group of ten centaurs, none looking too happy._

_"_ _Firenze__," a tall, reddish palomino growled, "what is the meaning of this? A human in our sacred realm? What drove you to this madness?"_

_"Cyghus," _ _Firenze__ said calmly, "this is no ordinary human; this is the Virgin From Light. Can you not see it in her aura? She is the third in the prophecy."_

_Cyghus__ paused and seemed to look deep into Ginny's soul. His brown eyes widened; then he looked at the heavens. "The Alignment."_

_"Yes," a coal colored centaur spoke. He was long and elegant, with striking features and night colored coat. "She has The Knife in her. It's apparent now. You were right, _ _Firenze__; Lord Saiph will want to talk with her."_

_Firenze__ locked his eyes with Ginny's, and she followed him through the throng of staring centaurs. Not too far into the first silver-stained valley, a single centaur stood, gazing up at the stars with a determined and serious face. Ginny's jaw dropped when she saw the face of the centaur. It was a female. Her beautiful, silver-blue hair and tail were contrasted with her midnight blue coat. She had the same dark blue eyes which reflected everything on their teary surface. She wore a modest black cloth over her chest, and she had the elegant body of an Arabian mare. She smiled lightly at Ginny as she approached. The centaur woman swept back her silver-blue hair and beckoned for Ginny to step forward._

_"We've been a long time waiting for your arrival, Virgin From Light," the beautiful centaur said in an ageless voice. "I am Lord Saiph, and you are Ginevra Weasley, the Lion in the Snake's Lair, if I'm not mistaken."_

_"With all due respect, Lord Saiph, it's been a long time since I've been a lion," Ginny replied stonily._

_Lord Saiph's liquid, _ _midnight__ eyes regarded her closely for a while. Her tail swished, and she turned to the stars before answering. "I see changes on your path, Virgin From Light. I see pain...betrayal...suffering...revenge...sorrow...and maybe redemption. Does this comfort you?"_

_"I've become accustomed to these things, Lord Saiph."_

_Lord Saiph turned her eyes to Ginny again. "You are tainted. Blind, frozen, lost...but you will find your way. Innocent you were, but never again. No, your innocence can't return."_

_Tears stung in Ginny's eyes at these words. She'd long known she'd never get her innocence back, her happiness. But to hear it from a centaur, a beautiful, ethereal creature of light...it was almost too much._

_"Don't despair, Virgin From Light," the powerful woman said. "Help always finds those in need. You can only fall so far before the only direction is up."_

_"I've been falling a long time, Lord Saiph," Ginny quavered, her breaths ragged and shuddering._

_"The only bottomless pits are time and space, and they are the same thing. I don't see you falling through either. The fall from innocence is always a long way down; for some people, it is farther than others."_

_"I know."_

_"Don't worry, Virgin From Light. I see the Fates spinning something for you along the road. You must be strong, continue on your path, for if you don't, we are all doomed – most of all, The Green Knight. You must not let him despair yet; he has things to do before the Final Conflict." Ginny nodded solemnly. "Come to me, Virgin From Light," Lord Saiph said kindly. Ginny did, and Lord Saiph bent down gracefully and placed a single, cooling kiss on Ginny's forehead. A sense of calm and control passed over Ginny, a sense of clarity as well. "Go now, Virgin From Light. You and I will never meet again."_

_"Goodbye, Lord Saiph," Ginny said forlornly. The Arabian-bodied Lord Saiph turned her face to the heavens, and Ginny walked to _ _Firenze__, who was waiting patiently._

_"I will lead you to the wolfsbane, Virgin From Light," he said._

_Ginny followed, pondering the deep words of Lord Saiph. She had lost her innocence; there was no reclaiming it. But she had said something of redemption. Surely redemption was better than staying damned her whole life, though she was safe when damned. It came to how much she wanted to sacrifice. Sacrifice, self-sacrifice especially, wasn't high on any Slytherin "To Do" list. What was the point? You lost something you had gained. She would never sacrifice her life for another; there just wasn't the motivation. The point was to live. That was the reason, Ginny thought, most Slytherins weren't suicidal. It just didn't make sense. But still...but still...redemption...that sounded good. Lord Saiph was right; one could only fall so far._

_"Here it is," _ _Firenze__ said, breaking her out of her thoughts. "It was nice to meet you, Virgin From Light. May you fulfill your part in the prophecy."_

_"Thank you, _ _Firenze__." Ginny watched as _ _Firenze__ blended with the forest, then disappeared from sight. She sighed heavily, then placed her icy sheet around her heart and put on Nysilia's ring. Leaning against the tree, she stayed in sweet oblivion for a while; she needed to forget, to not care; she couldn't go anywhere that weak, unless she was with Draco. Finally Ginny turned to the wolfsbane. As she was about to collect some, she heard a breaking twig and saw two great, yellow eyes disappear. _Great, more visitors, _Ginny thought._

_"Hello?" she called. She was fairly sure this wasn't a centaur, but they lived here, so it could be. "I know there is someone out here; show yourself."_

_Not three moments later, the bushes shook, and out stepped a great, shaggy wolf...no, dog. It was black with big, yellow eyes and rows of sharp teeth. Ginny sighed in relief. "Merlin, Black! What are you doing out here?"_

_"One could ask you the same thing," Black said hoarsely, changing back into his pale, human form. He leaned against the nearest tree and crossed his arms, succeeding in looking handsome, in Ginny's opinion. His obsidian eyes landed on her, and he set a slight frown on his thin lips._

_Ginny rolled her eyes. "Fine. I'm here collecting wolfsbane for Snape. Happy?"_

_Black grunted. "Why?"_

_"He performs sexual favors for me," Ginny answered sarcastically, but succeeded in making Black look uncomfortable. "Calm down. His stores are running low, and it is my detention. Hasn't anyone ever said, 'Oi, mate, chill...' to you? If not, they should; you are way uptight."_

_"I don't get out much," Black answered snidely. "Having to live as a dog will do that to you."_

_"I guess," Ginny said under her breath. She looked Black up and down, taking in his full form. He was tall and lean with broad shoulders and a slim waist. His arms were well muscled for his wiry frame. It became evident to Ginny that he must have been very handsome in his youth, though the years at Azkaban had all but erased those vague memories of former glory. "You look horrible."_

_"Thanks," he said sarcastically. "Your wolfsbane."_

_Ginny rolled her eyes, stooping to the wolfsbane. "Still don't believe me, Black?"_

_"I only trust three people on this earth...you aren't one of them," he replied plainly._

_Ginny stood and propped a hand on her hip. "I didn't ask if you trusted me. Quite frankly, I don't care; I can't trust anyone. What I asked you was if you believed I was sincere to the cause."_

_"No. I don't know why Dumbledore puts so much faith in you either." He walked closer and leered over her, his dark eyes penetrating her brown ones, but only finding ice. "Personally, I think all traitors should be killed or sent to Azkaban."_

_"You would," Ginny spat. "But think this one over: if Snape hadn't become a traitor, then where would we be?" She sneered up at him, curving her lips. "Where would you be without me?"_

_He hesitated for a minute. "I can't say. But I can say we could do worse than turning you over to the Aurors, or better yet, your parents."_

_Ginny snorted. "You think you intimidate me? I've seen fear and poison in its purest form, Black; I've looked on the face of terror and pain, and it isn't yours. You're so far from it that it's scary. Hell, you're a Gryffindor; you don't see evil like everyone else does."_

_"What is that supposed to mean?" Black growled._

_Juicing the atmosphere with the powers of Hina's ring, she pushed her chest out slightly and looked up at Black through her eyelashes. "What do you see before you?" Ginny asked in a breathy voice._

_Black's breath held in his throat, and his eyes bugged._

_Ginny licked her lips and looked him up and down, then winked at him. "Come on, Black; tell me what you see." Biting her lip lightly, she said, "I don't bite...hard."_

_"Ah...ah..." he stumbled._

_"Exactly," Ginny said sharply, dispelling the magic in the air. "You couldn't turn away from me, couldn't even speak. Admit it – you couldn't see the evil; you only saw the beauty. It's a powerful thing, beauty."_

_Black rubbed his eyes and stared blankly at Ginny for a while. Ginny had bent down and was collecting the wolfsbane, putting it in her cloak pockets. When she had collected enough, she stood and said, "See you around, Black!"_

_He grunted. Ginny smiled ruthlessly. "Need a bit of help with that?" she asked about his aroused state._

_Sneering, he said, "No, thanks; I'll take care of it myself. Besides, haven't you done enough tonight?"_

_"I suppose," she said with a sigh. Then she headed off to the castle under the waxing moon.

* * *

_

What can I say? I had to test him somehow. Plus, the bastard deserved that for what he did to me during my third year, what he tried to do, I mean.

Anyway, school progressed until the dance, which ended up being quite fun. Evan was the intellectual type, a smart arse from a marginally influential family. His parents had been killed by Aurors, but he lived with his equally manic uncle and aunt and their two sons, third years that year. At any rate, he was my most likely partner, as I couldn't get too close to Jonathan for his and my safety.

* * *

_Ginny had just sent her latest message to Dumbledore through the ever studious Hermione Granger. There were tons of people in the library earlier, but they had all gone to bed, figuring they'd need a good night's sleep for the last day of exams. Ginny watched Hermione read the message, then tried to gauge her reaction. As always, it was minimal. But she did jump particularly high when the door creaked open loudly, letting in a boy from Ginny's year, Evan Rosier._

_He walked purposefully toward Ginny and sat in the chair opposite her. "Hello, Ginevra."_

_Ginny looked at him pleasantly and placed her quill on the table. "Evan, how are you?"_

_"A hop, skip, and a jump from complete bliss, you?" he said sarcastically. "I don't flatter myself, but I know you have no one to go with to the Yule Ball, and Wilkes said you wanted to go with me. Why?"_

_"I felt like it," Ginny answered neutrally. "I couldn't go with Wilkes, you understand. I wouldn't go with Parkinson, Nott, Dolohov, or _ _Flint__ unless I felt like I needed to be raped, and I don't go with people younger than myself or out of my house."_

_"Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini?"_

_"Please, give yourself more credit, Evan. What if I just want to go and have fun, maybe an enlightening conversation or two and casual sex afterward? What's so repulsive about that?"_

_"Nothing," Rosier said, holding up his hands in surrender. "I just want to make it clear I don't want to get the living shite kicked out of me by Potter or your brother or Malfoy..._especially_ Malfoy."_

_"I can take care of Potter and my brother. As for Malfoy...he doesn't like sharing, but he's got problems of his own." Ginny looked at Rosier from the corner of her eye. "Besides, you might be refreshing. I don't have enough biting sarcasm in my life."_

_"Ah, but what to say to the smartest girl in my year? I'll spend the next few days thinking of things to say...oh, and _what will I wear_?" Rosier said mockingly. He stood and winked at Ginny before leaving._

_That Saturday was the Yule Ball, and Ginny was dutifully brushing her thick, auburn hair. On Draco's suggestion, she had gone with a red dress for a change, something different to shock the Hogwarts population. The dress was made of Chinese silk, the finest quality. It had no back to speak of, didn't scoop in the front, rather mimicked her chest bones, and spun tightly to her arms and chest before flowing out gracefully around her. She wore the rubies Draco gave her and Nysilia, Nefertiti, and Hina's rings. Pulling her hair into a tight bun at the top of her head, she left several curly strands loose at the nape of her neck. Looking back in the mirror, she applied her ruby red lipstick and golden eye shadow. The reds in her dress and lipstick matched her hair perfectly, and for extra measure, she lightly sprinkled her back, neck, and hair with reddish glitter._

_"Very nice," Draco commented from the doorway. "Are you going with Rosier?"_

_Ginny nodded and turned away from her mirror. "My, don't we look sharp?"_

_"Yes, well, we'll be the best dressed, Miss Weasley. Now are you going to make me wait? We are already what my mother would call 'fashionably late.'"_

_"No, no. I know you are in a hurry to get in Pansy Parkinson's skirts. Let's go," Ginny said chidingly. Draco merely rolled his eyes and took her arm._

_Ginny walked down to the common room gracefully, looking no one in the eye and trying to ignore the stares from her fellow classmen. She was, after all, wearing red. She could hear the whispers; they were none too flattering...well, not in the way one would want at least. Pansy sneered at her before plastering on a fake smile for Draco. Rosier looked stunned; he didn't move or speak for several moments. It could have been an improvement, but it was too odd for him not to be saying something snide._

_"Struck speechless?" Ginny asked coyly, fluttering her eyelashes up at Rosier. He nodded dumbly and escorted her to the dance.

* * *

_

And Merlin, aren't you sick of this? It is the same every year. Harry gets mad, I flirt like crazy with every man that breathes, and I sleep with a different Slytherin. Then I go into my rooms and brood. Yes. I'm sure you all saw this coming, so I won't talk about it any more.

Good Lord, let's move on.

School passed the same as always. I finished my Animagi training. I was officially a full fledged panther Animagus. McGonagall didn't seem too pleased. Well, she was pleased I accomplished it and everything, but she wasn't pleased it was me who did it. I bet in her eyes it should have been Hermione Granger. Hermione Granger is a prettier, younger, and perhaps smarter Professor McGonagall. Everyone knows it. Everyone who says otherwise is lying. Anyway, I was an Animagus, paperwork and all, and that meant virtually free to go anywhere on Hogwarts and its grounds. Not that I did, but I could; that is the point.

As I was saying, however. School moved on. After Draco took his customary vacation in the South of France, he returned to Hogwarts a fully trusted and reliable Death Eater. Anyone who says Draco had a chance of redeeming himself was blind. You should have gone with your first impression of him. He was evil, always would be, and nothing could change this.

As you know, I'd been communicating with Malfoy about the Incan Project, the harnessing of the Intihuatana stone's power. A few weeks after the winter holiday, I broke the news to him about the power of the winter solstice and The Alignment. You never can tell, but he sounded as though he could have kissed me by his next letter. Thrilled he would be able to give this information to his master, he told me to go home with Draco during the spring holiday and he would see that I was rewarded properly for my work. Rewarded, my arse! He wanted to pressure me into joining the Death Eaters.

But boy, when I broke the news to Dumbledore, his happiness could have smothered a small village. Sometimes I wonder about that man, not whether he's on the side of good or not, but if something is seriously impairing his judgment. Immediately he made an excuse to pull me into his office to talk strategy. I felt obligated to tell him about my trip to wherever the hell Malfoy was taking me, and he was reluctant to let me go. But he, of course, gave in at last because, if it's for good of the people, it's worth one life, especially if they are only a Slytherin. Black and Snape didn't like it either, but what were they going to do, intimidate me? I think not. Dumbledore has them whipped so badly they won't speak unless he tells them to. It's kind of sad that two full grown men have to have "Daddy" think, act, and talk for them, but I wouldn't know.

My situation with Harry was getting worse by the day. Every time I went into that library, he was there reading something. I could never see what though. I know there aren't any books on what I am in that library, but every time he looked at me, it was as if he knew something about me I didn't. Hacked me off, really. Then he would smile sadly and look down at the book.

Soon enough, spring rolled around. Gryffindor took the Quidditch Cup cleanly, Draco was angry, etc. I was one of the few who had stopped caring. Seriously, what is the point? I'd rather work on killing Tom than win a stupid Quidditch House Cup anyway. And I did. I did a lot of research; after all, I'd be actually meeting him that spring. By the beginning of holiday, I held enough information to safely be called an expert. I was an expert at a lot of things by then.

But I'm sure my holiday will prove a thing or two about me, I mean, if you were having doubts...

* * *

_Ginny sat next to Draco on the Hogwarts Express. They were going to Malfoy Estate, then off to wherever Malfoy was taking them. The way Draco told it, he and Ginny were the two youngest, yet most instrumental people there – at least Ginny was._

_"What do they want with you?" Draco asked._

_Ginny looked from the window to him. "I don't know. I think your father means to pressure me into becoming a Death Eater though."_

_Draco shrugged. "If that is all, I don't see why it couldn't have waited until summer; it isn't that far away."_

_"I know," Ginny said. "That's why it bothers me. You realize I might try to kill Tom if I see him; I can't allow him to be in the same world as me, Draco, not after what he did."_

_"I hope you can run fast," Draco said with a snort. "Come on, Ginevra; you're smarter than that. Think; you'd die, and the Dark Lord would live. You'd throw your life away."_

_Ginny slumped in her seat. "I know. That was kind of silly, wasn't it?"_

_Draco nodded. "Get ready; we are almost at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters."_

_As soon as Draco and Ginny got off the train, they were assaulted with two of Malfoy's bodyguards who told them to follow quietly. They did and were taken, their bags in tow, to a building with white pillars and magnificent silver statues. Draco looked bored, whereas Ginny was avidly taking in the scenery. She didn't know exactly what to expect, so she wore all six rings on her fingers. Nervously, her wand hand twitched, and Draco grabbed it, looking down on her with his quicksilver eyes. She nodded. She figured she was somewhere in the high offices of the Ministry. Her brother Percy would probably be there if she cared to look for him._

_"Miss Weasley!" Lucius said coolly. "How nice that you could join us; it's good to see you again."_

_"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy," she said tonelessly, working Nysilia's ring._

_Draco, who had let go of Ginny's hand when he saw his father, looked around and said, "Let's go somewhere else; Ginevra has some things to tell us."_

_Lucius inclined his head, and they traveled up a staircase and down a few halls into a secluded room on the thirteenth floor of the building. "More information?" Lucius asked, sitting in the chair behind his desk._

_Ginny, who had changed into a Muggle knee skirt and short sleeved top, crossed her legs. "Yes. Actually, I've translated all but a few passages of the text now, and I've discovered some things about the Intihuatana stone you might find useful."_

_"Really?__ I'd love to hear them, but here isn't the place. In fact, we'll be preparing you to introduce the idea to him yourself on Saturday."_

_Ginny frowned, but said nothing._

_"If that's all," Lucius said, "you two can meander about the city for a while, at least until seven. We'll meet in front of the Ministry and go to the Estate."_

_"Agreed," Draco said, taking Ginny's hand to help her up. Ginny held the eyes of Lucius a half second longer than needed and left with Draco. She could hear him snort as she left. "Where do you want to go?"_

_Ginny shrugged. "I haven't eaten since this morning. It's nearly one; let's eat."

* * *

_

The rest of the time that vacation was spent making sure I knew the procedures by heart. I needed to know when to rise, when to talk, when to bow, how much to say, when to stop talking, when to praise, when to advise, when to look bored, when to look desirable, and what to wear. I couldn't walk in there without a plan, especially on what to wear. Dress at a Death Eaters' meeting is very strict. Death Eaters wear masks, black robes, and a silver neck chain with an emerald serpent head on them. "Death Eaters in training" – and there were a few, I'd been told – wore all black and a black mask. I, who wasn't either, had somewhat of a dilemma. Draco was the one who came up with the solution.

* * *

_"Do you remember what you wore to the Yule Ball in your third year?" Draco asked as Ginny went through her clothes and design sketches._

_"Yes...You're a genius! Perfect! I could kiss you, Draco!" Ginny flipped through her design books, made a few adjustments, like tighter sleeves and thicker material. "I could wear my silver lined cloak...and my grandmother's necklace...and my emerald earrings...perfect!" Ginny riffled through her trunk and found what she was looking for. It needed to be adjusted, longer, bigger at the bust and tighter at the waist. It would do though. The high collar and button down back...it would be perfect._

_"Help me with the buttons," Ginny commanded as she slipped the dress over her head after she'd adjusted it properly._

_"My pleasure," Draco practically cooed. "Are you sure," he said slowly as he buttoned her dress, "that you want to do this?"_

_"What do you mean?" she asked quietly._

_"You can still say no. There isn't anything stopping you from just staying here," he said softly. His knuckles skimmed her bare back, and she bit her lip._

_"I have to. I'm not afraid."_

_She heard Draco sigh. He fastened the last button and slowly turned her around to face him. Ginny searched his face and found fear in it. But it was for her. "I can't stop you; I know that. But I don't want you to. You should be by me, Ginevra. That is the only place I want you, by me, in me, with me. I need you; you need me."_

_Ginny smiled a small, sad smile. She'd known this was coming. He was scared Tom would kill her. Ginny stood on her toes, kissed Draco's throat lightly and wrapped her arms around his neck. Draco buried his face in her long, red hair, and his arms snaked around her waist, holding her tightly. "I know," Ginny whispered. "I'll live. I'll leave school next year and come back to you; there isn't any other place I'm welcome now."_

_Draco pulled away a bit to put his forehead on hers. "You'll be all mine then?"_

_"Yes," she answered. Ginny ran her nose over his lightly and then kissed him softly on the lips. Draco pulled her tighter, however, and drew her into a heated, warm kiss._

_"Ahem!" a person said sharply from the doorway. Ginny opened her eyes and looked over Draco's shoulder; it was Lucius. Ginny pulled back slightly, but Draco kissed her once again, knowing he wouldn't be able to after that point. Then he turned to his frowning father and matched eyes with him._

_Ginny straightened her hair, which she was leaving down, and followed after the two tense Malfoys. _So different_, she thought, _but so similar._ The Malfoy fathers and sons had been living parallel lives for centuries; no reason to think Draco and his father would be any different._

_The time between leaving the house and arriving on the cold island off _ _Argentina__'s coast was a blur to Ginny. She remembered pulling the cloak tightly around her, the silver lining doing its job in keeping her warm. The brisk southern winds of autumn (for on that side of the equator, it was autumn) whipped about her head, and Draco nodded at her reassuringly. Ginny listened as the harsh _ _Atlantic__ crashed along the cliffs and jagged rocks of the tiny island. As they walked, Ginny noticed scorch marks along the ground and the lack of the trees in the vicinity. Finally, they came to a great, stone fortress, something the Spanish Conquistadors might have built long ago. Crumbled statues of Spanish horses guarded the entrance to the cold, stone building. They walked through them and into what must have once been a ceremonial church. Sitting where the crucifix alter would usually be was a simple, antique chair...and the Dark Lord was sitting in it. On his left and right were official Death Eaters, his guards._

_Ginny stifled a shiver and walked fearlessly with the Malfoys on either of her sides. She jacked the power she was giving Nysilia, Nefertiti, and Morgana's rings to their maximum. She felt all doubt drain out of her and boosted the power of Chani's ring as well._

_"Lucius and Draco," the Dark Lord said, his voice an unpleasant, scratchy, high-pitched sound. She couldn't see most of him, but his hands and face were an ungodly pale white. His eyes were red and slit like a cat. A snake was coiled about his chair on the floor. Ginny was thoroughly and completely disgusted by him. He _wasn't_. People _are_, they can _be_, but he _wasn't_. It felt wrong, deep inside her soul; everything he was felt wrong and sick. He was an abomination to all that was human, and Ginny knew then more than ever why he needed to be killed. "How nice of you to bring me a visitor."_

_"Yes, my lord," Lucius simpered, stepping out from beside Ginny and kneeling on the ground. "She is the one I've been telling you about, Ginevra Weasley. She's the one who discovered the effects of the Intihuatana stone and how to use it. She has more news for you, if you'll hear it, my lord."_

_Ginny swallowed, her hood masking her face for the most part. The only visible part of her body was her lips, and she wanted it that way. She had gloved her hands with green velvet and made sure her hood covered her face._

_"This is the Weasley girl then," Voldemort said lightly. "I suppose we could hear from her. Step forward, Weasley; let us hear what you have to say."_

_Lucius stepped back, trying in vain to catch Ginny's eye as she approached Voldemort. Ginny boldly stepped to the three stairs that led to the dais on which Voldemort's chair sat and knelt stiffly in front of him._

_"Speak," the dark man said._

_She did. "As Mr. Malfoy has told you, I was the one who discovered the Intihuatana stone's properties. I have discovered something else about it as well. The Alignment of the Planets will happen on the winter solstice this year. Eight Gates of Power will open on the Ninth and transfer their energy through the sun onto the Intihuatana stone. This increases the power in the stone a thousand fold and gives the person it's channeled to unlimited power without any risks. Only by translating the ancient texts of the Incans could I find the exact procedure for this. We need the diamond called Trapezium; it has the light of the four center stars of the Orion Nebula in it and is the only diamond powerful enough for the transfer. We'll need highly talented channelers and, of course, the right timing to collect the full amount of power."_

_Ginny finished, and there was a silence in which everyone processed the information she held. Finally, the rough voice of Voldemort broke the silence. "The Trapezium is in the hands of Dumbledore."_

_"I could get it," Ginny said confidently._

_Voldemort inclined his head and looked down at Ginny. "Could you? You are bold indeed if you think Dumbledore is enough of a fool to believe you, especially now after you've met me."_

_"I met you long before I entered this godforsaken place," Ginny spat._

_Lucius coughed uncomfortably. "My lord, she was the one to whom I gave your diary, the one Potter saved."_

_"Ah! So you are the soul powerful enough to carry my spirit, interesting. Very interesting indeed." Voldemort's face broke into the most horrid expression Ginny had ever seen. It was a smile. His pale lips curved, and his eyes gained a malicious undertone more evident than before. Ginny clenched her wand hand instinctually and felt her temper rise. She hated his presence, everything about him. He needed to be dead, but she couldn't do it, not here, not now, not yet._

_Voldemort must have recognized something in her, for his smile widened and his black tongue came out of his mouth and licked his lips softly. "Beautiful..." he murmured just loud enough to be heard by all. "Absolutely stunning..."_

_Ginny worked hard not to lose herself completely. "What?" she bit out._

_A hungry look entered Voldemort's eyes, like a man trapped in the desert who had found an oasis. "The hatred I feel from you. Utterly magnificent. All that powerful, powerful hate. I can taste it from here, the power of you, you and your hate. Remove your cloak, and let me look on the face of such blind hatred."_

_Steeling herself and pushing the limits of Nefertiti and Morgana's rings, she unbuttoned her cloak and let it fall to the ground as she stood defiantly. She could feel her wand hidden under her right sleeve, ready to be used any minute._

_Then Voldemort's eyes widened almost imperceptibly. They flickered all over her body, and Ginny fought revulsion again and again. "Perfect in every way. This is unexpected. No wonder Draco keeps you so close, so hidden. Intelligence, beauty, power, and ambition – the perfect woman. The perfect Slytherin and certainly the perfect Death Eater."_

_Ginny looked away from him, no longer able to stomach it. She would never join, never._

_"Do I disgust you, Miss Weasley? Does the thought of becoming a Death Eater pull at your insides? Answer honestly now."_

_Ginny whipped her head over to him. "Yes," she spat. "The very idea."_

_Voldemort nodded and looked at her with his manic eyes. "Are you sure it's not actually yourself with whom you are sick? You came here, to us, to give us information."_

_"Who says I'm not sick with myself? I know what I've become, and as much as I hate it, I know there is only one place left for me. Here."_

_This seemed to content the Dark Lord. His snake was raised to his ear and hissing secretively. Voldemort mutely listened to it, and the snake left. "I see you carry with you a weapon, a dagger."_

_Ginny face remained expressionless._

_"Let's see this weapon of yours," the Dark Lord said eagerly._

_"You can't," Ginny answered stiffly._

_"Nagini tells me it is a very powerful weapon. I only want to look at it, feel it. Besides, you have no choice."_

_"No," was all Ginny answered.

* * *

_

That is the last thing I clearly remember of that meeting. I now know what it means to say no to the Dark Lord Voldemort. It means pain. Not emotional pain, physical pain. I've always thought psychological pain was more excruciating. I dwelled on the fact that people betrayed me, hurt me, lied to me, everything that would damage my psyche. This pain I was given by Voldemort was far worse, far more terrible than I'd ever experienced.

When you dip a person in water and then perform the Cruciatus on them, they feel it deeper. Something about the water conducts the waves of pain better, like lightning. I remember lightning, too; black lightning biting my bare skin, ripping at my nerves and tearing through my body.

My left leg and arm were broken slowly, bent until they snapped and splintered in my skin. I was cut where I would be in the most pain but not bleed to death. I had my fingers almost all broken, my face and body covered in searing cleansers to burn my cuts. Then they would heal me almost fully and do it again.

Then they killed him, Draco, my friend and companion. They killed him painfully and made me watch. He cried out; he screamed for mercy. He even told me he loved me, that he always had and always will. He told me he was going to betray Voldemort with me, gather information, and when the right time came, we could defeat him. He said he hated Voldemort for what he did to me, and even if I didn't love him back, he loved me. I said I loved him; even if it was a lie, I couldn't let him die like that. Then with one swift swish of his wand, Voldemort cast the Killing Curse, _Avada__ Kedavra_, and I watched as Draco fell.

Twenty-seven hours of torture and they got nothing from me. Morgana's ring promised salvation in the cold place in my mind to which I retreated. I wouldn't speak; I couldn't, not there. I was safe. I could shut off the pain in my body and live there temporally. But I said nothing, not a word.

The Romans were a proud people. During their time, Jesus Christ was crucified. I'm sure you've all seen the pictures, the paintings, the statues. Well, we have the Romans to thank for this particular invention of torture. The Roman wizard Rigelus made it, the Crucifying Curse; it was just so much easier to do than erect the cross and put the person on it.

I'm not sure the exact moment it happened, but it did. I heard one last word.

"_Crucifixus!_"

I am here now, telling you this story of my life, my magical cross holding me fifteen feet above the ground. My dress is tattered and barely covering me. My head hangs to the side, and I see nothing, I hear nothing, I am almost dead. Nails in my palms and feet hold me up. It isn't that bad now, now that I have no hope. I can see the light now, and it is warm, inviting. I can feel the cool breeze on my skin; it makes me smile. I can hear them; they're angels, I think. "She's here! She's here!" they cry. Someone wants me; someone is calling to me. It's so bright, so beautiful, so lovely.

I only regret that I never got to love. Yes, that is my greatest regret; I didn't get to love. I would have liked to love my family. My mother, father, and brothers, even Ron. I would have liked to love Draco, sweet, sweet Draco. You didn't need to die for me, but we'll be together soon, together like it should have been. I would have liked to love Harry most of all though. He needed me, my love. Those things I said, I didn't mean them. I would tell him I loved him if I could. I can't now. I would have liked to be in Gryffindor too. It would have been nice to experience emotions, experience love truly.

I remember this as I slip away, as I go beyond to meet Draco. Someday I will be joined by the ones I should have loved, and I will tell them I understand now, that I accept and love them now. It will be happy and good. The light is closer, closer and closer.

* * *

**Author's Note:** NOT YET OVER! STILL 180 MORE PAGES LEFT! DON'T STOP READING! …unless you really want to… …I can't actually stop you…

And also…

**¡¡¡¡¡ALTERNATE ENDING!!!!!** Read this please! PLEASE! Okay, do I have your attention? Good. After I complete _Elemental,_ I am going to write an alternate ending for _The Unforgettable Fire _called _Fire Forgotten_. Upon request of some of my "darker" readers, I am currently composing an alternate ending in which Ginny is evil and Draco lives. If you feel so inclined, feel free to e-mail me (or review) with requests or suggestions for _Fire Forgotten_. I repeat: it will be completely evil Ginny with living Draco...evil...not good...evil. All right, carry on then. Thank you for reviewing.


	13. The Rebirth of Hope

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN: The Rebirth of Hope**

I give the fight up: let there be an end,

A privacy, an obscure nook for me.

I want to be forgotten even by God.

– Robert Browning

* * *

"Here! This way!" the small boy cried. He had found her over the lake of Hogwarts that morning as he took the long way to his Care of Magical Creatures class. Immediately he had gone to his head of house, Minerva McGonagall, who in turn went immediately to Dumbledore.

Faster than people would have thought a man of his age could move Dumbledore was on the field by the lake and looking up at the atrocity. She was covered, none too modestly, by shards of a green dress. It was a Crucifying Curse, he knew; he could tell by the way she hung on an invisible cross, her hands and feet, bloody and red, the only things propping her up. And above her, the atrocity was furthered by the Dark Mark burning up the morning's glory.

There was a crowd by now, but that couldn't be helped.

"NOOOOOOOOO!" a crazed voice said from the crowd. Cutting through the mass, Dumbledore saw Harry Potter, tears in his eyes, Ron and Hermione following him. "GINNY! NOOOOOOOO!" Then he fell to the ground and heaved in sadness.

Dumbledore turned back to the body of Ginny Weasley. She couldn't still be alive; it was impossible. But gently he took off the curse and levitated her to the infirmary. _Such a beautiful mind,_ he thought, _such a beautiful person, such a horrible waste. I never should have let her go; she didn't deserve this._

Ginny's body was laid on the white sheets, and Madam Pomfrey gasped before she began examining her. Tiredly, Dumbledore sat down on the chair by the Slytherin as he watched Pomfrey do her work. It should never have come to this. He should have known when she didn't come back with the rest of the students that something horrible had happened. He had simply put too much faith in her abilities. He had underestimated the reaction of Voldemort. He looked on the small woman; she seemed more like a girl now, blood on her face and neck, her hair matted and torn.

"AAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!" shrieked Madam Pomfrey.

"What?" Dumbledore asked, hoping it wasn't too awful.

"She's – and – she's – I've never – Albus – just…just look…" the stuttering nurse said dumbly.

Dumbledore stood and walked next to the young Slytherin. "Holy Mother of Merlin," he said, just as dumbly as Madam Pomfrey. "Poppy, this girl isn't dead."

"She just started breathing, Albus – I've never…this is unprecedented! She just breathed when a moment ago she wasn't!"

"Well," Dumbledore said, pleased with this turn of events, "cure her, Poppy. I'll stay until you are done. School has been postponed, and I am waiting for the board to tell me what I'm supposed to do."

Madam Pomfrey nodded and went to work. Deftly her hands worked their magic over Ginny as Dumbledore watched. Magical burn soothing potions, internal organ repairing spells, charms to mend her skin and bones, other magical remedies to help the girl.

"Albus," Madam Pomfrey spoke a few hours later, wiping the sweat from her forehead.

"Yes?" he asked.

"I'm done. But...oh, it is so terrible, Albus! She'll never get rid of those scars!" the nurse cried sadly.

"What do you mean?" Dumbledore asked. He had no formal education in medi-witch healing; he only knew the basics.

"The Crucifying Curse, the scars don't go away; it's impossible to make them. She'll have them for the rest of her life, the poor thing. Her hands, her feet, they were torn up by the nails; they'll never be smooth again," Madam Pomfrey said sadly, her eyes welling with tears from stress and sadness.

Dumbledore sighed, trying to decide what to do. "Poppy, I want you to tell no one she is alive yet, not even the teachers; let no one in unless it is an emergency, and put her in a separate room."

"Yes, Albus," she agreed, immediately moving her gently to the next room.

Dumbledore went to his study. The first thing he did was call his four councilors to him – Sirius Black, Minerva McGonagall, Severus Snape, and Remus Lupin. Solemnly, they entered one after another. The grief in the room was heavy when Dumbledore spoke. "I assume you've all heard what happened to Ginevra Weasley."

McGonagall sobbed heavily and blew into her handkerchief before Dumbledore continued. "I know you know what you all saw, but it's not as it appears. Ginevra Weasley isn't dead. In fact, she is in the infirmary as we speak, and Madam Pomfrey is giving Miss Weasley the utmost attention."

"How can this be?" Sirius asked, shaking his head.

"I don't know," Dumbledore answered. "It's a miracle surely. But I need you all to be strong. I've never been in this position before. Miss Weasley can be a great help to us if this is done the right way."

"You can't mean...Albus! After all the girl has gone through, you can't ask her to do any more!"

"You are letting your emotions control you, Minerva," Snape said calmly. "We must think clearly, for Miss Weasley's sake."

Dumbledore nodded and looked over at Lupin, who was yet to say anything. Lupin looked up at him with tired eyes. "We can ask no more of her, Albus."

The headmaster sighed. "And yet we must. She has a part to play, for good or ill, in the future of this world. I've seen it in her eyes; she has something she has yet to do."

"What?" Snape asked.

"She is of the Prophecy of Three. I believe she is the Virgin Of Light and has been for some time. Harry Potter, I'm convinced, is the Green Knight, and Voldemort is the Dark One, we know. The fact she lives makes me think she does have an important role still."

"But to put her through more, Albus," McGonagall said in a sorrowful voice. "There must be a better way."

"Sometimes the right way isn't always the easiest," Lupin said darkly from the corner.

"Precisely," Dumbledore collaborated. "That is why we need to think of a plan. Should we tell the public she is alive, should we tell them she died? Should we get her special training?"

"You need to tell them," Snape said. "If you tell them she's dead, you'll have renegades trying to go after Voldemort, especially if you run her picture in the paper. But get her training, for Merlin's sake. Get her Auror training; have Moody teach her, Mundungus, Arabella, someone."

"I agree," Sirius said solemnly. "We can only prepare her for what is to come."

"The way you tell it," Lupin said quietly, "is that she will, at some point, have to face Voldemort. When she does, all we can do is hope she had the best training available. Do it."

McGonagall took a deep breath. "Selfish! You are all selfish! She's young, sixteen! How young must she be for you to see that she is only a child? A talented, powerful child, albeit, but a child nonetheless! To throw this at her, to put another burden on her, the mental stress alone would kill her. Especially now that we've been informed Draco Malfoy is dead, the one person on whom she could depend."

"Minerva," Dumbledore said, trying to be calm with the willful Gryffindor. "We must; we have no choice now. The war is upon us, upon her, upon everyone, young and old. If she is not prepared, she will die, and we will _have_ no hope; it is all we can do."

McGonagall was silent for a long time. Her sense of right and wrong was very strong, and this stank of wrong. She needed to help the poor girl, but three against one...Lupin should have backed her up. "She cannot say at Hogwarts then. I won't allow it. I shall quit, Albus Dumbledore. You will send her to a private, protected place where she can be trained, where Moody or Arabella or Mundungus or whoever the hell you want can train her. If you think for one minute that I will allow her to stay in those Merlin forsaken dungeons, you have another thing coming!"

Dumbledore was silent for a long time; everyone was silent while the enraged Minerva McGonagall fumed and stared them down.

"I agree," Snape said quietly. "She can't stay in the dungeons; she can't stay at Hogwarts."

"I agree as well," Lupin said. McGonagall smiled, satisfied with the outcome.

"Fine," Dumbledore said, agreeing to the idea. It was better than having Moody or one of the others coming there. "She will live with Moody; he will agree. Her parents will be allowed to see her, and her siblings; that is all." McGonagall sighed a great sigh of relief, and Dumbledore released his councilors, so he could brood on what to do.

He had been keeping Alastor Moody up to date on everything that had been happening at the castle. He and Alastor had been Hogwarts chums, friends when it didn't matter what house a person was in, for Moody had been in Slytherin. It had been too long since the glory of Slytherin had been apparent. Once such a respected, powerful and righteous house, now a shamble, a shadow of its former self. Yes, Moody would agree with him – agree with McGonagall, that was. The Weasley girl couldn't stay at the school, not with these Slytherins. Moody would be happy to have a student, as would Mundungus and Arabella. Especially one so gifted as Ginny, who could live up to his expectations, be the daughter he never had. All that was left was telling Harry; he would need to know, even if no one else could.

* * *

She wouldn't cry; she wouldn't. She was too strong to cry; she couldn't be weak like that. She wanted to ask why, why she'd been made to live. She was supposed to be dead, happy and with Draco. But she wasn't. She was here in the damnable school, in a bed covered in cool, white sheets.

She'd woken up alone in the semi-dark between dusk and night. The fist thing she wanted to do was cry. She'd been happy in heaven, content. There wasn't pain there; there wasn't hurt, just loving acceptance. She hadn't even been able to find Draco in the Elysian Fields yet. Who would have guessed the Greeks had been right? But with a twist. People had a good and bad side to their soul. Everyone's good side went to Elysium, and everyone's bad side went to Hades. Even Tom's good aspect was welcome in Elysium; in fact, it was there already; she'd met him in her brief time. He'd said he'd been waiting for her, waiting to apologize. She forgave him. She'd almost reached Draco when she'd been torn from Elysium.

She'd met Reonet, and Reonet had used her last bit of power to send her back to Earth. Reonet had been sad, sad and lonely, but wise and beautiful. She'd kissed Ginny on the forehead and gave her back to the world of the living.

Ginny had now awakened, and she felt the pain of her evil and good souls being bound together again. She'd taken labored breaths for several minutes before raising a twitching hand to eye level. Scars of monstrous proportion covered the palms and tops of her right and left hand. _The Crucifying Curse_, she thought. The scars were horrifyingly ugly, her veins appearing larger than before because they were sore from the mending. The skin was pale and almost clear. She had no other scars, save the identical ones on her feet. She touched her scars lightly and found they were only a bit tender.

"They will be better in time," the calm voice of Dumbledore said from the doorway. Light poured in the room where Ginny sat, her arm clutching her legs to her chest. "Time heals lots of things."

Ginny said nothing. It wasn't really his fault, not this time. She'd made the decision to go; he'd warned her against it. She'd caused Draco's death. It wasn't like Cedric where she could only have done a little; she could have actually saved Draco. Shame burned her hotter than ice or fire could have.

"Miss Weasley...Ginny," Dumbledore said kindly, "I realize this is hard on you. I also hate to ask more of you, but you need to understand. I know about the Prophecy of Three; I know you are in it. You need training; you need to become stronger. Your parents have already agreed; you will be taken out of Hogwarts." Dumbledore paused, as though he expected her to say something. She didn't, so he continued. "You will be put somewhere safe, with Alastor Moody, the Auror. He, Arabella Figg, and Mundungus Fletcher will train you. They are the best in their fields and can train you to be, too. Do you agree to this? For Ginny, you are our last hope, our one saving card."

Ginny stood and walked to the window, watching the setting sun. It was almost gone. She folded her arms around her waist. "How long have I been gone?" she asked.

"You left at the beginning of holiday. You were found the Monday after it ended. You have been asleep for two weeks now," he answered.

Ginny looked out at the sun again; it was beautiful, a sight she rarely saw, thanks to her location in the dungeons. "Do you know what heaven is like, Headmaster Dumbledore?"

"No," he answered plainly, wondering where this conversation was going.

"I do," she said quietly. "I was there, you see. All is good in heaven, Headmaster. People sit on the cool grass and talk, love, live. It's a great sadness to live in this world again with a soul that is tainted. In heaven, your soul is purified, and the evil is sent to Hades. I can feel wrong easier now; I can feel right easier, too. Headmaster, I know I haven't been awake for that long, but I haven't felt any good in this world. So what is the point? I'll never feel the good again; I don't think I can even go back. Reonet said something. She said, 'I give thee, Ginevra Weasley, an immortal soul, so thou might defeat the Dark One.' I truly believe my soul, at least, is bound to walk this earth forever, never knowing happiness. So I ask you again, what is the point?"

_They have torn her from heaven,_ Dumbledore thought. _She has become a fallen angel then. No wonder she is so sad. How do you comfort a person who has known real goodness?_

"There are still things that are good on Earth. Love is good, when you find it. Family is good, friends are good, and when you find them, you feel great goodness, Ginny. You could make the world good; you could do it if you helped us."

Ginny turned from the setting sun to look him in the eye. She had ageless eyes, brown. They should have been warm, but they were distant, living in a different time. "How? The world just can't go back to being good again when so much evil has terrorized it."

"It can be repaired. People are durable; they will live through it; they will still have hope," Dumbledore answered.

Ginny turned back to the sun. "There will be no dusk for me, Headmaster."

"But will you help us?" Dumbledore pressed.

"I will do as you ask."

* * *

Ginny had no belongings with her, and, as she was reluctant to go back to Malfoy Estate to ask for them back, she donned a spare school uniform and robe, houseless of course. Dumbledore was waiting for her in the hall.

"Alastor will meet us in Hogsmeade. The two of you will go to Diagon Alley and get whatever you need, wands, robes, etcetera, at the school's expense. You will meet your other five instructors the next day. I assume the day after that you'll begin training," Dumbledore said as he led her out of the building that morning. It was very early, four o'clock. He didn't want anyone to see her, much less talk to her, and by walking her to Hogsmeade, he could make sure they were unseen.

Ginny nodded and walked after him. Their trip was undisturbed and fast. They walked off the grounds and down to the small village. It was asleep and quiet, but Ginny felt no good in it, no rest. Soon, a hooded man approached them, a glowing, blue eye in his head. Ginny remembered what Moody looked like, but wouldn't have been shocked anyway.

"This the girl?" he asked in a raspy voice, sizing her up and frowning.

"This is Ginevra Weasley," Dumbledore concurred.

Moody studied her again, then nodded curtly. "Can't stay here long, Albus. I'll contact you as always."

"Goodbye, Miss Weasley. I'll be in touch if you need to speak with me. Just remember, the world lies in your hands now."

"I remember, Headmaster," Ginny said quietly.

"Good," Dumbledore said. "I'll talk with you later, Alastor."

Then the headmaster left Ginny with Alastor Moody, who was again studying her. "Ginevra, was it?" he asked sharply.

"Yes – call me Ginny," she corrected. Only Draco called her Ginevra. He was dead.

"Are you hungry?"

"A bit," she conceded.

Moody grunted, and they walked into a pub devoid of people, save two men in the back and the bartender. He ordered their breakfasts and checked both for poison by passing a magical poison detector over their plates.

Ginny ate slowly, aware Moody's blue eye was always on her. They ate in silence, as neither felt compelled to talk. For Ginny, it was still a little soon. She'd been given a week to rest before the training, and now she was here. She hadn't seen anyone, refusing to see her parents. She'd done basically nothing, not even cry; she promised she wouldn't.

When Moody had finished, he took a long drink from his flask and studied Ginny with both eyes again.

"It's rude to stare, you know," she said quietly. "Besides, how much can you tell by appearances? Nothing. Nothing that matters anyway."

Moody grunted. "Sure know a lot, don't you, Sprite?"

"I thought I did," Ginny answered, bringing her eyes to meet his. His good eye was black, a beady, sharp and intelligent color.

He nodded. "We'll fix that. What do you want to do?"

Ginny shrugged. "Go to Diagon Alley, I suppose. I need a wand, clothes, shoes, some money from Gringotts, and a few books."

"Done," Moody said. "Barkeep! Mind if we use the Floo to Diagon Alley?"

"Nope," the tall, balding man answered.

They took the Floo to Flourish and Blotts, and Ginny picked up an Animagus book. Moody just shelled out the money, Hogwarts money at least.

After that, Ginny got some robes, all black. Madam Malkin wanted to put her in reds or greens, but Ginny put her foot down. Draco was dead; she only wore black now. She bought some Muggle street clothes, all black, and some personal items. Moody was very patient, silently watching and judging her.

They then went into Ollivanders. The shadowy old man looked at her with his mercurial eyes as she entered, giving her the feeling her soul was being judged. "A new wand then?" Ollivander asked.

"Yes," Ginny answered.

"I have one more rowan wood-oak hybrid. Good thing, too; wands like that with a stardust core are hard enough to find. The fact that I have a twelve inch one is amazing. Here you are, Miss Weasley; do make sure to keep good track of this one, won't you?" the silvery old man said kindly.

Ginny took the wand and smiled as the familiar rush of magic flowed through her veins. She paid Ollivander and left with Moody.

Gringotts, the wizarding bank, was next.

"How much?" the goblin asked.

"Two hundred galleons to vault 709," Ginny said. "And a note, if you don't mind. 'From Ginny' will do. I would also like to remove fifty from my vault 1106."

"Key," the goblin said. Ginny gave the short creature her key, and he came back not too long after with a bag of gold for her.

"Thank you," she said with a nod.

"What was that for?" Moody asked, once they were out of the bank.

"I've hurt my family enough, don't you think?" Ginny asked pointedly.

"That you have," Moody conceded. "Are we done?"

"I have two more places to stop. One is the Ministry. The other is my house, with a letter telling my father he has a job now, a damn good one, too," Ginny answered.

"I don't think I want to know how you are going to do that," Moody grumbled.

"You don't," Ginny replied.

Two hours later, Ginny came out of Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge's office, carrying a letter asking her father to come back to work as the head of his old department with a pay rise.

Ginny was walking toward Moody when Fudge came from the office. "Feel free to come back any time, Ginny!" he called down the hall. Ginny watched Moody frown when he saw the state of Fudge's robes and hair. Ginny looked clean and unruffled, however, collaborating his theories about her. He also watched as Ginny didn't turn back to the Minister and kept walking.

"I just have to go to the Burrow now," Ginny said calmly.

"To the Burrow then," Moody said. They took the public Floo and landed in the kitchen of a homey yet slightly run down house. There was a clock on the wall with each of the Weasleys on it. Moody noticed that Ginny wasn't on the clock. Pictures of the Weasley family decorated the walls, but Ginny wasn't included in these. Moody watched her; if she noticed or cared, she didn't show it. He followed her down the hall and into a living area.

"Ginny!" the plump Mrs. Weasley exclaimed. "And Mr. Moody! Oh, do come in. Arthur!"

"Hello, Mother," Ginny said quietly.

Mrs. Weasley looked at her, cold-eyed. Moody could tell there was a high level of animosity between mother and daughter. "What have you come here for? Surely you don't need funds or approval."

"No, Mother. I just need a book, the one I entrusted you with," she answered solemnly.

The plump woman nodded. "I have it."

"Ginny!" a deep voice said from the doorway. "Alastor, how are you? Come, both of you, sit!"

"Thank you –" Moody started.

"– but no, thank you. We will be leaving soon, Father," Ginny interrupted. "Before we do, I have something for you."

Mr. Weasley took the letter from his daughter's hands and looked at it speculatively. Mrs. Weasley, who had left a moment ago, returned with a green, leather-bound book with silver writing on it. Mr. Weasley opened the letter and began to read. His mouth dropped open, and his eyes bulged a little. "Ginny...how...I...how?"

Ginny smiled sadly. "It doesn't matter, not now anyway. I must be leaving."

Moody examined the scene with interest. Her parents seemed to not only not care, but to want her gone as soon as possible, well, her mother at any rate. Her father seemed sad, his torn clothing and fading red hair making him look older and more pitiful.

"No need to thank me," Ginny continued bitterly. "In fact, I'd prefer it if you didn't. I won't be seeing you all for a while, maybe never. I just wanted you to know that...that I've had some time to think. I apologize for anything I may have done to hurt you. You may not love me, but I want you to know, I wanted to love you. I'm sorry I can't. Goodbye, Mother; goodbye, Father."

Moody followed her to the fireplace again, and they took the Floo back to his house in the country.

* * *

Ginny sat on the porch of Moody's house drinking her tea. They were waiting for the other four instructors to arrive. Ginny had settled in the quaint house quite nicely. Her room was spacious and tactfully decorated with natural colors and earthy hues. Moody was kind, if not overly so, and understood that she would need some time. Apparently he had done this before, or something like it. She discovered he wasn't nearly as obsessive as he was made out to be. After the Hogwarts incident, he'd got some new treatment which brought him back to the frame of mind he'd had before he was tortured by the Dark Lord's servant. He was quiet and private, though he did carry a flask around with him and check food even he himself made for poison. She liked him well enough. He had an extensive library to which he gave her complete access, as well as several interesting rooms filled with anything vaguely related to the Dark Arts, like spy glasses, lie detectors, and foe mirrors, among others.

But the thing Ginny liked about Moody the most was he never pried. She volunteered information sometimes, but he never pushed the envelope. He was patient and kindly, and Ginny grew to have a certain amount of trust in him.

"Ah, Alastor, how nice to see you!" a tall, graying woman said, approaching the porch with her hands open.

"Hello, Arabella," Moody said in his gruff voice. "Nice to see you again too."

Though she was nearly six inches taller than he (for Moody was an unimpressive five feet, eight inches, barely taller than Ginny), she stooped down to kiss him on each cheek and sat down next to him at the porch table.

"And you must be Ginevra Weasley," the tall woman said, sticking out her hand. "I'm Arabella Figg."

"Ginny," she said courteously as she took Arabella's hand. "Call me Ginny. It's nice to meet you."

After Arabella Figg arrived, three men came, two together and the third not too long after. The two that come together seemed related to each other, or they looked enough alike to be brothers at least. Orion Bellatrix was tall and slender, dark even though he had gray hairs in his head. His eyes were dark blue and sharp. His brother, Demetrios, was tall and slender as well, but fairer, with identical blue eyes. They weren't solemn, and they weren't light hearted either; in fact, they had no personality of which to speak.

The third man reminded Ginny of what a young Alastor Moody would be like. His name was Mundungus Fletcher, and he was lethal. His very gaze was enough to pierce the metaphorical dagger through the heart. Ginny liked him automatically.

They were all sitting around the table when Moody finally spoke. "As you all know, Dumbledore has sent Miss Weasley away from the castle for her own protection. We, those who sit here, are obligated to train her in the ways of the Auror and to keep her secret and protected."

"This is about the Prophecy of Three then?" Arabella asked.

"Yes," Moody answered. "She is the Virgin Of Light."

All eyes went to Ginny. She could tell Moody had trained them all by the way they saw. That flick in their gaze as their eyes traveled from one place to another, the sharp expression when analyzing something; yes, they were Moody's students.

"Let us hear from the girl," Fletcher said slowly. He brought his glass to his lips and took a sip.

"Yes," Orion said, "let's hear what she has to say. I assume you have an opinion about this, Miss Weasley."

Ginny searched the faces at the table. "Suppose I do. I doubt you would care anyway. It was made quite clear to me that my opinion wasn't welcome by Dumbledore."

"Dumbledore has too much to worry about to spend time trying to appease you, girlie," Arabella said wisely. "He has war to wage. You tell us your opinion and don't bother Dumbledore with your petty problems."

"I haven't been a girl for a long time," Ginny said calmly. "If you want my opinion, here it is. We have no hope. You all will die if you try to face Tom, and anyone who tries to oppose him will find a similar fate. This is foolish and will get us nowhere."

"Don't you have hope?" Demetrios asked.

Ginny snorted. "There is no hope on this world, not now at any rate."

"That will be the first thing we have to fix," Fletcher said to Moody.

"That will fix itself in time," Moody said after a while. "She's still recovering. She has seen a lot. Now is not the time to discuss that, however. You all know what you are doing, but Miss Weasley doesn't." Moody turned to Ginny. "The group of people you see before you are the five most talented Aurors in Britain. Arabella is a gifted Arithromancer, the most powerful female Auror in the world and our top information-gatherer about the movings and whereabouts of Voldemort. Orion and Demetrios are intelligence agents who work for Arabella, though they specialize in infiltration. Fletcher is an excellent field Auror and has caught as many Death Eaters as I have. I am, of course, a bit too old for any of these things. Strategy is more my game now, though there is still a punch left in this old wand. We will train you, mold you into a warrior fit to face off with the Potter boy against Voldemort."

Ginny frowned. She didn't want to work with Harry. She didn't even want to talk to him or see him. It was well and good enough to repent before death, but she would never see true death, not now that her soul was bound to this earth again. Nothing could cause her to want to love again. She was separated from Draco, separated from her other half. _No,_ she reminded herself. _He will never be your other half. Neither of you could admit it; neither of you knew how to love and never will._

"Yes," Arabella said, "you will work with Harry Potter. You are a team in this prophecy and will have to work as a team to defeat Voldemort. Get over it."

"Sound advice," Ginny spat, "from a woman who doesn't know what she is talking about!" This was the first sign of emotion since waking from death. She felt the inner fire. The wheels of hate began to turn again, moved by the heat burning in her heart. The lion, so long in slumber, was awake and beating at the snake for dominance. But Ginny didn't care about keeping her newfound temper in check. "You all think you can just walk over me like I'm nothing? Aren't I the prophetical Virgin From Light? Don't I deserve a little recognition and respect? I look around the table, and I see five people past their prime trying to save a desperate world of people who have lost the will and desire to fight the battle you've striven to win your whole life. Do you know why you are the last? Because they HAVE lost hope! They have lost already, and you just keep it all going! Let them die or leave them! They want no part of this world!"

"And what would you have us do?" shouted Fletcher. "Leave them to die? Leave them to suffer at the hands of Voldemort and the Death Eaters? You _are_ their hope! You _are_ their will and desire to win! If you don't believe in this, no one will! You're selfish, and you're the one who will pay for it. You will see them die, and you will regret it! Pull yourself together, girl!"

Ginny clenched her teeth. Her heart's wheels screeched from lack of use as they powered up. Then the telltale sign of wrongness came over her. Her hands began to shake, and the veins in her palms twitched. Ginny slid the gloves she wore to hide the ugliness off her hands and looked at them. Her veins throbbed, and she held her hands together. Her heightened sense of right and wrong told her she was deathly wrong. Her conscience told her she was wrong. A will to fight came over her; the hope and desires of the people she needed to fight for infused itself in her rusty soul. She had been wrong, and now she needed to fight. Suddenly her hands calmed, and she massaged her wand hand lightly.

"You're right," she said slowly. "I can see it now. I have much to do."

Moody nodded. "Good. It has begun. That was enough for today. Tomorrow the training will start in earnest. You may leave, Miss Weasley."

_

* * *

_

_March 10, 1997_

_Dear Diary,_

_I feel it less now. When I was given life a second time, the wrong and right in the world were so clear. The pain of the two halves of my soul joining has lessened too. The rejoining is less apparent. Once there were clearly two different souls residing in my body; now there is a mesh of them in which I can barely distinguish the good from the bad._

_I think this is why I can't feel good and bad as clearly. Like the day before, when I was at the Ministry getting Father his job back, I knew what I was doing was wrong, but it didn't pain me to do it like it pained me to do other things that weren't right earlier. I think a person has always had two souls, but they were so closely linked no one knew. Just like good and evil are linked. For example, when Cornelius Fudge fired my father on order of Lucius Malfoy, that was wrong. And the means of getting my father his job back was wrong, but giving my father the letter was good._

_It's rather confusing, to tell the truth. I wanted so much in the beginning to die again and live in Elysium with Draco, but now it's like I've regained my will to live. When dead, you are happy and content. When you live, you are miserable and always fighting for a bit of heaven. But there is something special about living that makes humans crave it. It's the ability to _be_, I think. People underestimate this ability. Just to be able to sit and breathe...it's something you can't do in heaven...there is something not the same about it._

_This is what Tom craves, being human enough to _be_. It's the power to do this that he craves as well._

_I don't know what I'm going to do. They told me I'd see Harry. I don't want to. How childish does that sound? Merlin! All I want is the peace I had, the peace I deserved! I just want to feel clean like that again. I feel diseased now, infected with some gross plague and utterly filthy. Sometimes I want to puke, I'm so disgusting._

_The scars don't help either. They serve as a constant reminder, a reminder that I am disgusting and tainted again. They are ugly too. Every time I wash my hands, it isn't like I'm washing them at all, because all I can see are those wretched scars. So I use gloves; I always wear them. They are black dragon hide, and basically nothing can spoil them. Fire proof, water proof, acid proof, and anything else proof you can think of._

_Oh, well. Tomorrow my "training starts in earnest." I guess I'd better get some sleep._

* * *

"How would you go about defeating Voldemort?" Moody asked her that morning after breakfast. They sat on his porch (Ginny gathered this was his favorite place; it was a nice porch, as far as porches went) under the shade of the great oak tree.

Ginny thought about it for a moment. "I guess I'd take a knife to him. Conventional magic doesn't seem to work."

Moody nodded. "Seems like a good plan when put so simply. You chose a physical way, not magical, which is interesting. Traditionally, poison has been the woman's weapon of choice, but you chose a way of direct confrontation."

"No one's done it before," Ginny pointed out.

"True enough, but there is a reason for that. It can't be done; he has magic. It isn't possible, much less plausible."

"So how would _you_ do it?" Ginny asked defiantly.

"I'd like to do it the same way," Moody confessed. "But as I said, not possible. No, it's a sad thing, but Voldemort needs to be overpowered. The side of good will defeat him."

"You place so much faith in the light," Ginny said. "I don't understand why. The fight has so far been won by evil. True, Harry was able to escape, but so many others – Cedric, the Longbottoms, the McKinnons, and so many others – dead. They were good; they fought for the light. They are dead now, and only their murderers survive."

"But you forget; Harry Potter is alive by the grace of love. His mother Lily (bless her heart, I knew the child) used old and powerful magic, the magic of love and light, and she banished the dark spirit of Voldemort, defending Harry as a baby," Moody countered. "We've seen that good can conquer evil on a small scale; now we need to use it on the real thing, the real evil."

Ginny looked away. He was right of course; Harry had lived by the grace of love. She closed her eyes against the breeze and breathed in the sweet, country air. "How?" she asked.

"That's what Ministry Arithromancers have wondered for decades. Thankfully, Arabella Figg is the greatest Arithromancer known to the wizarding world, and she doesn't work for the Ministry, she works for Dumbledore. She's discovered, after hours of study, that Lily Potter must have used wandless magic to save Harry. We found her wand in the dining room when we looked through the destroyed house. There was no way she could have reached James' wand. She used an old form of wandless magic to protect her son."

"So you are saying you have to use powerful wandless magic to defeat Tom. That means like seven people in history can defeat him. Good, we're definitely going to win this war," Ginny scoffed.

"Actually, that isn't entirely correct. The elves do it."

"House-elves. Perfect. Let's get the goblin/brownie hybrids to teach me wandless magic. They're witless, spineless creatures; they care about nothing, unless it involves serving tea."

"I meant the wood-elves," Moody corrected.

"Oh, well, let's go to Germany, dig the lot of them out of their damnable forests and get them to teach me! Better yet, why don't we get them all out here! We'll have a regular old party!"

"You know," Moody growled dangerously, "this would go a lot easier if you wouldn't be so fickle and bad tempered. This is for your own good, girl. All I have to do is train you, but if you're going to be a selfish little child, we can turn you loose on Voldemort right now and see how you fare."

Ginny clenched her teeth. She really needed to work on cooling down, and she knew it. _A few hours of Nysilia's ring should calm me right down_, she thought. "Fine. I'll work on that."

"Good," Moody said with a frown. "Now, as I was saying, the wood-elves have been doing it for centuries. The Dali Lamas of Nepal have been as well for as long as there's been one. It's possible and powerful, ancient and good."

"It can't all be good," Ginny said.

"Yet it is," Moody said, his good eye flashing excitedly. "That is the beauty of it. The fact that wandless magic was the original magic, the oldest magic, proves that all magic was originally good. This means it's more powerful and can, wielded through the right person, defeat the abomination that dark magic is."

Ginny's eyes widened. "And you want me to kill Tom...with wandless magic?"

"No, don't be daft. You can't; you aren't the Green Knight. We don't know what you have to do, only that it's important. That's why you're being trained," Moody explained.

"So Harry is the ultimate savior?" Ginny groaned and put her hand on her forehead. "Do you know how disgusting that is?"

"I was a Slytherin," Moody answered. Ginny snorted. "But yes, I know what you mean. It hardly seems right. The one boy who survives Voldemort, the one boy who escapes his evil every year, the one boy who literally owns the hearts of all witches and wizards, is the one boy destined to defeat him. No great distinguished wizard like Dumbledore and no descendent of some great wizard. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the liberator of the wizarding world, will save us after all."

"It isn't right; it isn't fair," Ginny said grumpily. "He doesn't deserve it. He's barely lived, he is only seventeen years old, and he is going to defeat Tom! It should have been me. Hell, it should have been you...or even Dumbledore!"

"I know," Moody said. They sat their in silence comfortably. Ginny realized there was a bond between the two of them. They were traditional Slytherin; that's why she never fit in, she realized now. Moody was of the glory days of Slytherin, the days when being in Slytherin didn't mean you were automatically a Death Eater. She was that type of Slytherin, the Slytherin of old. That was what brought them together. So few of them left now, and two sitting on a porch in the sunshine of a perfect spring morning...it would have brought anyone together.

"Anyway," Moody said after a while, "you will be trained, like Harry, with wandless magic. Actually, you will be trained by the only two people I know who can do wandless magic, Orion and Demetrios Bellatrix – wood-elves incidentally."

"Really," Ginny said with a light snort, raising an eyebrow. "I guess I can see it. I didn't notice the ears."

* * *

"Focus, Miss Weasley," Orion said smoothly into her ear.

Ginny gritted her teeth. If someone told her to focus one more time, she'd scream. Literally. She'd been sitting on the grass, waiting to feel the inner energy for three hours now. It wasn't cold or anything; it was just annoying how Orion and Demetrios could do it so easily and she couldn't.

Ginny opened her eyes and groaned in agitation. There Orion and Demetrios were, levitating, doing the simplest form of wand and wandless magic imaginable, and she couldn't. They floated down to the ground, landing in the sitting position in front of her.

"Miss Weasley," Orion began.

"If you tell me to focus one more time, I'll take your damn pointy ears and stuff them up your arse," Ginny warned.

Demetrios fought back a small smile. "That," Orion said calmly, "was uncalled for."

Ginny groaned again and fell down on her back. "I know; I'm sorry! It just hacks me off; this should be easy!"

"Orion and I were born with the ability," Demetrios explained. "Of course it is easy for us. You need to learn it. Doing simple things is the easiest place to start. Now let's try again; I'll guide you, Miss Weasley."

Ginny pulled herself to the cross-legged position she was in before. "Okay."

"Now," Demetrios said soothingly, "close your eyes...imagine you are holding your wand. Feel the power in the wand; it flows through your veins. It is part of your cells, your heart, your soul...feel the magic flow. It is in your blood...feel your blood flow. Your heart pumps the blood and magic. Out and in...out and in...feel the magic in the blood. Can you feel it?"

"I can," Ginny answered. This was nothing new; she'd been able to feel it for three hours almost. Doing something with it was another story, however.

"Good," Demetrios continued. "Now feel the soft breeze on your skin; you are as light as this breeze, as calm as this breeze. It is part of you, part of the universe, part of the magic. Feel its magic merge with yours; feel it connect with your blood magic. Can you feel it in you? Can you feel its ancient magic?"

"I can," she answered. This was also nothing new; she'd been able to feel the magic in the world around her for hours, too. Again, doing something with it wasn't a possibility as of now.

"Now reach out to it; let your blood guide you; feel yourself as light as the breeze; make yourselves one. Feel the air; you are the air; use the magic in your blood."

Ginny's breathing slowed, and she felt the world in all its magic. Old magic, powerful magic. The world seemed clearer, more tangible than ever, and she felt it. And she rose, not much, but a few inches. Then her eyes rolled to the back of her head, and she hit the ground hard. "Oof!" she grunted. "Damn it!"

"You just need focus," Orion said with a smile. Demetrios was smiling as well.

_

* * *

_

_March 16, 1997_

_Dear Diary,_

_I've been working really hard. Demetrios and Orion say I'm the fastest learner they've ever taught. Not surprising; I wear Chani's ring to basically every session. If I didn't, I'd be so lost it wouldn't even be funny._

_They say the basic form of magic is elemental, and if I learn to control the natural aspects of magic, I'll be able to perform wandless magic better. There are five components of elemental magic, they say: water, fire, earth, wind, and ether. I've learned how to control wind, fire, water, and earth so far. It hasn't been easy. For wind, I had to learn to manipulate the winds to do my bidding, start small tornadoes, levitate myself. They made me set a dead tree branch on fire to learn to control flame. Then they made me levitate flame when nothing was burning. I held the fire in my hand. For earth, I had to learn to communicate with what Orion and Demetrios call the "mother." I had to tell them what the trees were saying, what the ground was saying; then I had to ask it questions. That was really weird. But I felt the magic. For water, I had to freeze something, make water rise and fall from my glass, make it spin and control its direction, all sorts of things._

_Ether is hard, though. I don't know what they want me to do. It is something like seeing the world or the stars or something on a different plain. I think it's tough, but they do it easily. They say you can detect lies with it and stuff...I'm not sure what it is good for..._

_Anyway, my training will go on with them until they think I'm completely ready. Moody doesn't do much yet, just watches. He seems to be waiting, judging, predicting. I've talked to him often, though nothing too personal. We have a bond, a bond shared by a dying breed, the righteous Slytherin._

_I miss Draco terribly. Especially now that I can't feel the goodness in me. The separation of my souls is no longer there; they are one entity again. It's sad to know goodness and then have it taken from you. Draco was a goodness. I can't stop thinking about his last words. He said he loved me. He didn't know what love was; neither did I. Yet in the end, he said the words. Maybe part of him truly loved me, maybe part of me truly loved him...we'll never know. I know I must move on, but it's hard, so hard. I don't want to forget; I don't want to forget ever. But I feel the separation strongly and long for the pain to go away. Maybe it will; time fixes a lot of things I've heard. Does it fix this though? _

_I now have hope; it has been instilled in my soul. I haven't felt it to this day, but I've heard it is a human thing to have. I'm more human than I've ever been. I can feel, little by little at least. "Baby steps, Gin, baby steps," I remind myself. I said as I was dying I'd like to have loved. I don't shy away from that. Here I feel safe to fulfill that promise, that declaration. But unlearning the things that have tainted me is a slow and long road. It rains on that road constantly; hail, fire, wind, and death line the edges of that path. But this I knew when I started down it. Lord Saiph said I'd find salvation. I think now she meant I'd make my own salvation; those things just aren't given to you, you know. _

_I feel out of place right now, like some sort of freak. I know things and see things the way no one else on the planet does. I don't know; maybe I'm getting a bit paranoid._

* * *

"Ether is the hardest of elements to conquer," Orion said wisely as they sat under the night sky.

"I feel stupid," Ginny complained. "How am I supposed to see this power of the universe if I can't see?"

"You have to feel the power of the stars," Demetrios explained. "Feel the star fire in them. Feel their age; then you will feel their power."

"This will give me enlightenment?" Ginny questioned, her head turned to the heavens, but her eyes shut.

"Among other things," Orion said. Ginny could tell he was smirking by the way he said it.

Ginny frowned and worked harder. She was supposed to feel the power of the universe and possibly be able to harness it. What this was supposed to do, Ginny didn't know. They mentioned soul traveling (whatever the hell that was), far seeing (possibly telling the future, which Ginny could do), using the universe to power an attack, and other things of which Ginny had no understanding. She'd tried using Chani's ring for this one, but it wasn't working. Nothing she tried worked.

"It isn't working!" Ginny growled. "Why do I need this anyway? Who cares if I can feel the universe at whim? I just want to feel Tom's blood on my hands."

"Patience, Fiery One," Demetrios said, using the nickname she'd earned. She'd got it when she accidentally set her sleeve ablaze when trying to control the power of fire.

She stuck her tongue at him and tried again. The universe always opened to her easily enough; she could feel the power of it, but beyond that, she was lost. She imagined a flush of power and understanding would come over her if she was doing it right, and Orion and Demetrios said that was what it would be like. But it seemed as though she wasn't opening the right door; either that or she wasn't using the right key...

"You know how if you use a different key," Ginny began, "on the same door, it will open to different places? Is the universe like that?"

"I've never heard it put like that," the dark haired Orion said, "but essentially, yes."

Ginny sighed and concentrated again. _Different keys_, she thought slowly. _What key have I been using? _ Taking a deep breath, she reached out again. The universe was at her fingertips; she could feel the galaxies in their slow rotations, the stars shining and twinkling. Ginny pushed at the feeble image. To her surprise, it sent out waves, ripples like water. She tried it again, but this time she punctured the surface. Immediately she was assaulted with a cool feeling, rising behind her eyes. The stars in her mind burst to life, and the universe became clear. Then a soft song, like that of night becoming day, the earliest and purest of songs, rang out of the dark. It echoed in the abyss and carried Ginny's soul with it on a tremor of light, bringing her to the symphony. To describe it would have been a sin; it would have been like trying to compare Beethoven and Mozart to Picasso or Michelangelo. There were no words to describe the beauty she felt. Her eyes welled with unshed tears at the splendor of the universe.

"Now isn't this worth fighting for?" Demetrios asked.

Ginny could only nod. Had she known how, she would have cried.


	14. They Called Her The Hurricane

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN: They Called Her "The Hurricane"**

"It is said an Eastern monarch once charged his wise men to invent a sentence, to be ever in view, and which should be true and appropriate in all times and situations. They presented him with the words, 'And this, too, shall pass away.' How much it expresses! How chastening in the hour of pride! How consoling in the depths of affliction!

– Abraham Lincoln

* * *

Ginny sat at her vanity. It was wrong when Draco wasn't there...just wrong. All the time she kept expecting him to say something, and all the time there was just silence. Silence that was deafening when she was used to the presence of another. But Ginny would, as she had the weeks before, weather it. It wasn't that terribly bad, except right before bed. Draco had always been there, right before she turned off the lights; now he wasn't. She missed him so terribly...so terribly.

But she had to go on. Moody kept her busy. After one week of perfecting her elemental training, she moved on to a different sort with Arabella Figg. Ginny could tell Arabella held no fondness for her, none at all. It was, in a way, like McGonagall...but colder and more openly disrespectful. Not that Ginny could blame her; Arabella was of the age where the Slytherins were just beginning to turn to evil. Of course she didn't trust or even like Ginny; Arabella had been developing her morals and beliefs at the time when Slytherins were becoming dark. To her, all Slytherins beyond that point in history were evil and Death Eater scum.

Ginny didn't mind all that much. Her training with Arabella was mostly intellectual. In many respects, Arabella was like McGonagall. Both were old. Both were extremely intelligent. Both were very strict. Both were Scottish. Both were slightly ill tempered and Gryffindor. They were practically the same person...except different.

"Miss Weasley, how do you expect to defeat Voldemort if you can't focus for three seconds on your work?" Arabella asked shrilly.

Frowning, Ginny pushed her paperwork at the woman. _I've already finished; that is how, bitch, _she said in her mind. Ginny watched as Arabella made little grunts and frowned. Finally, Arabella set the paper down and looked at Ginny over her square glasses. _McGonagall has those glasses,_ Ginny thought absently.

"Well, Miss Weasley, your calculations are correct. Actually, your calculations are beautiful. But it doesn't work."

"Pardon?"

"Did you even look at the problem? Or did you only look at the numbers? You just told me, on this piece of paper, that the Killing Curse can be deflected by the use of a Gray Shield Charm."

"The numbers work," Ginny said defensively.

"Well, how about we go ask Moody to cast the Killing Curse, and you can try to block it with your Gray Shield? Out in the field, you won't have time to calculate, Miss Weasley. You'll be on your toes, and you'll just have to know. Knowing how must come first, that and knowing why."

"Then what is your point?" Ginny asked bitterly.

"The point is you have things to learn, and it might not be all magic. You need a major attitude adjustment, girl. I'd love to teach you the hard way, but we have limited time."

"I bet you'd just love that," Ginny spat. "I bet you are one of those people that worship the ground the Boy Wonder walks on. Go Gryffindor! Bravery! Morality! Righteousness! Why, if everyone was a Gryffindor, no one would have this problem."

"If you were Gryffindor, at least," Arabella countered. "No wonder you are in Slytherin, bitter to the last! No need to look for morals in your generation; it's anything that will get you ahead!"

"Some people consider ambition to be a great attribute!" Ginny returned, clenching her wand hand tightly, her gloves rubbing the wrong way.

"And some people consider courage to be a great attribute!"

The two women stared each other down. They were the classic case of Gryffindor and Slytherin. Both proud and smart, too much so for their own good.

Ginny sighed and cracked her neck. "We sound like children," she said. "Bloody selfish children."

Arabella frowned. "That we do. Next problem then?"

Ginny nodded.

* * *

_March 28, 1997_

_Dear Diary,_

_The days pass slowly. Every day I fight against myself. I want to move forward and stay in the past at the same time. To move on is to forget Draco, but to stay in the past is to give up hope. I've found it, my hope. It turns out it was always there; I just couldn't see it because it was so small._

_I have taken to finding solace in the stars; their music is utterly captivating. I don't sleep much; truth be told, I don't need it. My body has adjusted to that fact. I meditate instead; this was encouraged by Orion and Demetrios. They say meditation is the only way to truly be one with the universe. The way they explain it, being one with the universe is the only way to extract power from it. The ability to sit under the stars at night and see without seeing, feel without feeling, be without being, is so liberating. I feel closer to Draco when I do, as though, if I were to push hard enough, I could reach through the heavens and grab his hand. Though, loath as I am to admit it, I would never do that. It would disrupt too many balances._

_I've been learning about balances lately. It never occurred to me how very selfish I was. I toyed with people, people I hardly knew, people who could have loved me. I intimidated where I should have comforted; I hated where I should have accepted. I'm learning more about being a true Slytherin from Moody, the Slytherin of old. He is such a great person, such a powerful and good person...he deserves much more than he's received. But I digress._

_The point is I'm unlearning what I thought I had to be, how I thought I was supposed to be. Being in Slytherin (in these days at least) is more imprisoning than educational. Sure, you learn what it means to be secretive and stay alive, all the while getting what you want, but it also means you aren't a full human being. That used to not be so important to me, but now...I can't think of too many things I'd rather be. I know Draco would have come with me. In many ways, he was an archaic Slytherin. His father had tainted him from so young he didn't have much of a chance. He would have changed for me, the way I would have become his mistress if he was forced to be with Pansy._

_That reminds me, I requested (for my education...really) that I be able to see Brigid Allen, my parallel. For some odd reason, Moody is willing to do this. I suspect he wants to A) meet her himself, and B) make me learn from it. I don't really care about the learning; I just want to see how much she is like me. On a side note, we both have scars now, hers on her cheek, mine on my hands and feet. It's getting freaky._

_Anyway, Arithmancy and stuff with Arabella is going okay. I think she likes me more now, though there is still the coldness. She is an odd woman, like I imagine McGonagall would have been had she pursued the life of an Auror. I'm learning a lot, and not just about Arithmancy. Arabella has fashioned herself a history teacher of sorts. She thinks I need to be berated by the actions of those in my house from the past. I think she wants to "scare" the rebellion out of me...or whatever._

* * *

"You sure you're ready, Sprite?" Moody asked her as they stood on the pier of Azkaban Island. "You've got a lot of things to haunt you; the Dementors bring out the fears in people."

"I've met the Dementor-abominations before," Ginny stated solidly, pulling her plain, black cloak about her tightly to shut off the harsh wind. _Yeah, but you didn't have anything to fear then; you'd lost everything then. Now you have something to fear; now you are more human. But most of all, you are older and more tormented. Stop being so cocky, Gin,_ she said to herself.

Moody nodded, and they trudged up the craggy path to the prison. It didn't have walls like most prisons, nor did it have gates or wire fences. In fact, it was one building that stood only three stories and was fairly run down. _Probably been around since the Dementors,_ Ginny speculated. They climbed the stairs, and Moody knocked on the door five times, signaling their presence.

An elderly wizard opened the doors tiredly. "New one for the prison, Alastor?" the man asked. He looked over Ginny appraisingly. "Pretty one too."

"No, Pete, not today. This is Miss Ginevra Weasley, my new student," Moody said. "We're on a bit of a field trip."

Pete nodded. "They get younger every day, don't they, Alastor?"

"That they do," Moody grumbled. "I need you to take me to Brigid Allen's cell."

"Ah, another pretty one," Pete said. He took a lantern off a wall and motioned for them to follow. "I remember the day she came in. Didn't pitch a fit like most o' the male prisoners. In fact, she took it all in step, walking to her cell as calm as you please, asking politely for an extra blanket. I gave it to 'er, o' course, pretty little thing. She talks like a normal person too. I go up there time to time and talk to 'er, 'cause I don't have no one to talk to." He led them up a flight of stairs and began fiddling with his keys.

"Ah, Pete," the familiar, womanly voice of Brigid Allen, Ginny's former Defense professor, said calmly. "How are you? Any news this time? I'm anxious to hear about that Hogwarts incident."

Moody grunted harshly from Ginny's left. "You'll be hearing directly about it, Allen."

Out of the shadows, Brigid Allen strode calmly and put her hands on the bars of the cell, her long scar casting an odd shadow on her pretty features. "Is that Alastor Moody? I never thought I'd see you after that night you caught me. Let me go, have they? Lucius paying people off again? I told him he shouldn't; it looks bad."

"I've been fightin' to keep you in here, Allen," Moody grunted. "Malfoy has plenty of money for you yet though; he's throwing a fit and lots of figures around every time he comes to plea for you. But that isn't why I'm here; I've brought you a visitor."

Ginny pulled back her hood.

"Ah, Miss Weasley! I remember you quite clearly; Draco always had his eye on you if I recall things correctly," she said, seeming to Ginny quite pleased indeed to get a visitor. "It's been so long since I've had good female conversations."

"Well, I'll let 'er in," Pete said cautiously, "just as long as ya don't slit her throat or nuffin. I mean – if that is okay with you, Moody."

"Miss Weasley can take care of herself. I have other matters to attend to. Take me to Livingston, Pete," Moody commanded. Pete unlocked the cell and let Ginny in before locking it again.

Once the two men had left, Brigid looked down on Ginny (to this day, Ginny was amazed with her height). Brigid sighed. "So, Miss Weasley, I know I don't have the greatest of hosting areas, but do please sit."

"Call me Ginny, please," Ginny said, taking a seat at the small desk opposite the bed on which Brigid was sitting.

"What can you tell me about what is happening in Hogwarts and the outside world? I much desire to know."

"Quid quo pro, Professor.º" Ginny smiled.

"I'm no professor any more," Brigid scoffed. "But I will accept your terms, though what I know which you would find interesting is beyond me."

"There are some things, but first I'll give you news. What have you heard?"

"Only that a girl was found crucified outside the school, the Dark Mark above her," Brigid sighed. "Draco is dead, and many Death Eaters have gone missing."

Slowly, Ginny removed a single, black, dragon hide glove and showed her palm to Brigid.

Brigid brought her hand to her mouth and gasped. "You?!?" she said with mixed astonishment and disgust.

Ginny nodded. "Yes. Though, through a turn in fate, I was...saved. I was taken to Voldemort, and he found it fit to punish me for my...insolence. They killed Draco in front of me, but all in vain; they didn't get what they wanted."

"What did they want?" Brigid asked.

"I can't tell you," Ginny told her. "It is now between me and the headmaster."

Brigid looked at Ginny thoughtfully and nodded. "Then tell me of Lucius. How does he fare?"

"He was the one who brought me, though he had no way of knowing what would happen, nor any way of stopping it," Ginny added. "He does well still; he is using his influence more than ever, trying to release you or get you into Mungo's."

"Fool," Brigid scoffed. "He should know better. What of Voldemort?"

"They say he is hiding in the islands off Argentina, maybe Tierra del Fuego. He is gathering all his forces to him, preparing for battle," Ginny replied. "He's found a way of increasing his power a thousand fold; his goal is global domination."

Brigid nodded wisely. "He would, the bastard. Go on."

"That is why I am here, training under Moody. They think I have some part because I somehow survived the Crucifying Curse, that I'm some Harry Potter-like person."

Brigid snorted. "Figures."

"But now I have some questions for you, some of which are personal," Ginny said. "That is, unless you wanted to know anything else."

"No, thank you. Shoot," Brigid invited.

"I want to know why you and Lucius...chose each other. You were supposed to be Hufflepuff, the antithesis of Slytherin. What made you and him come together?"

"Ah, that question. If I had a Knut for every time someone, including myself, asked that question, I'd be richer than Lucius himself. But, quid quo pro, I know the rules. I think a better question for that is why did you and Draco 'come together'?"

"Because we fit," Ginny said after a while.

"Yes." Brigid nodded. "We fit. We could be weak around each other. We could give what little we had to give to each other. We were as close as soul mates without any souls. There was no love, as there was no love with you and Draco, but there was the layer of trust that goes with love. There was the layer of understanding that goes with love. There was even the physical attraction that comes with love, but neither of us knew how."

Ginny sighed. "Exactly. What would you do if he died?"

"I won't lie. I would be very sad. Despite all the hype about Slytherin not being an emotional house, we are loyal, protective...at least about things which are ours. He was my Lucius, even though he was married to Narcissa. I was his Brigid. We just belonged. Were he to die, I would be sad. But tears don't come easily to me any more, never have really."

"So why don't you want him to come and take you from here?" Ginny asked.

Brigid turned away, looking out at the overcast sky. "It would show his weakness. Lucius isn't weak; he is strong. It's not right when he is weak. Besides, people aren't really supposed to know about us. They do, but it's easier for both Lucius and me if they pretend they don't out of fear. If he looks weak, those piranhas think they can start biting into him."

Ginny licked her lips, unsure how to ask what she wanted. "Do you follow Voldemort? I mean, do you follow Malfoy in following Voldemort?"

Brigid shook her head slowly. "No. Never have actually. That never really bothered Lucius either. Actually, it was better because he never had to worry about me betraying him in any way to Voldemort."

Ginny was quiet for a while. All her questions were satisfied. "I haven't seen any Dementors around," Ginny commented.

"Yes, they stay away from me for some reason," Brigid said vaguely. Ginny had a feeling she was lying, withholding something; she frowned in the slightest. She had never heard of spell or potion that could make Dementors avoid a witch, except the Patronus, but Brigid had no wand with which to cast it.

Just then, Pete called out, knocking on the bars, "You two ladies done in there?"

"Yes, Pete," Brigid said after a small smile at Ginny. Ginny stood, but before she could move to the bars, Brigid grabbed her hand and looked down on Ginny seriously. "I've not had a person really listen and understand since I last talked with Lucius. I really enjoyed this. But before you judge Lucius or me, remember, you and Draco were the same. And if you do – and you might – kill Lucius, know that I will mourn him, but not hate you. He and I have both done enough to get us sent seven ways to hell, and hopefully we'll meet there. Goodbye, Ginny."

Ginny grasped Brigid's hand with her ungloved one. "I don't think you'll be disappointed with heaven, Brigid; I've been there. Good luck."

Brigid nodded, and Ginny walked out of the cell; the clink signaled the doors closing. As they walked away, Ginny heard Brigid's voice, "You listen to Moody, Ginny; you listen good! He'll teach you well, and you'll put some more people in here yet!"

Ginny looked over at Moody, who grimaced and kept walking. Ginny frowned; this was all too odd. Who had Moody gone to see? Why wasn't Brigid affected by the Dementors? Why the hell was Pete the only human on the island (excluding prisoners, as most had ceased to be so long ago)? And why hadn't she seen any Dementors?

The last of these questions was solved by a herd of death-stinking Dementors making their way straight at the group of three people. All of a sudden, Pete raised his lantern and faced them down. "They aren't here for you! Go away!" To Ginny's infinite surprise, they did, though they followed them quite closely out the door and to the pier.

"See you around, Pete!" Moody called as he cast out into the ocean.

"Take care of that young girl, Alastor!" Pete returned.

Ginny could make out his form climbing the steps of Azkaban as Moody rowed steadily away from the accursed place. As soon as they were out of the Disapparation Shield, Moody and Ginny Apparated (one of the first things she'd been taught with Arabella) to Moody's house in the country. Soon they were sitting on his porch, drinking tea and discussing the day thus far.

"What did you think of her?" Moody asked after taking a draught from his flask (which, incidentally, Ginny had learned always carried three liquids: tea, ale, and water, an endless supply of each) and stared at her with both eyes.

"She's..." Ginny paused. "Well, she's me...but older...and yet not me, too. Maybe if things had kept on going how they were, I'd be her; in fact, I would be her."

Moody nodded. "Yes, she is very much like you. Though I hope you'd give more of a fight if an Auror ever had to capture you. It's almost as though she wanted to be caught."

"I liked her, though; really I did," Ginny said. "I couldn't help it."

"Aye, I liked her too. It was I who caught her. Asked me if she could have a cell with a view of the setting sun," Moody said thoughtfully.

"She does," Ginny said.

"I know." Moody chuckled. "Manipulated me quite well, she did. Smart woman, very smart, very dangerous, very beautiful. No wonder Lucius fancied her; she's fascinating. Fascinating the way Draco found you fascinating. So what have you learned?"

"I'll have to think about it," Ginny said, looking out at the sky. It was midday, about the time she should be training with Arabella, but that had been canceled.

"Good answer. Not ever worth it unless you have to think about it," Moody commented. "So you have the day off. Go do whatever girls your age do, Sprite."

Ginny nodded and went up to her room to think.

Ginny was walking along a dirt road. Everywhere there was day and night at the same time. The sun and moon warred above her, and the stars raced out of the way. Images from her past haunted the skies, unbrutalized by the warring celestial bodies. Over the horizon, she could see herself and Draco sitting in their customary positions, she at her vanity and he on her bed. In another, they were making love in his room at home. To the east, she saw Harry helping her out of the Chamber of Secrets her first year. The south held a picture of Ginny painting the mural at Hogwarts. Turning around, Ginny saw herself kissing Warrington and then Harry throwing him off her.

"Ginny," croaked a voice. Ginny turned and saw it was Cedric. His dirty blonde hair was blood-streaked and his eyes a haunting, dark-ringed sight. His body was covered in cuts, and his robes were torn. "I knew you. I blamed you."

Ginny brought her hand to her chest and gasped. The figure morphed into Draco. He looked as he was right before he was killed by Voldemort, his face and body broken, his jaw crooked from when Avery had hit him. "I loved you, Ginevra! Why wasn't my love enough? Why did you leave me to die? All you had to do was tell them! Just tell them! You wouldn't be alone, Ginevraa! You'd be mine!"

The staggering Draco advanced on her, and she backed away. Then Draco's face was replaced by Harry's. Harry was taking long, steady strides and smirking, his green eyes glinting dangerously. "I am your future, Ginny. You _can't_ deny me! I'm in your _blood_! I'm in your _destiny_! I _am_ you!"

"No," Ginny sobbed weakly, losing her footing on the uneven terrain and falling on her back.

But the face morphed again into that of the Dark Lord in all his malevolent glory. "Sweet, sweet Ginevra...never knew I was using you, using your soul. Such a powerful soul; I wish to taste it. Come here, little sheep; look into my eyes. I'll cherish you; come..."

* * *

"No!" Ginny wailed. "NO! NO! NO, NOT EVER!"

"Sh! Sh! Shh, m'girl! 'Tis a dream!" The voice of Moody sounded over the chaos.

* * *

Blood was dripping from the sky; the sun and the moon had finished their war, and no one was the victor. Blood seeped on the multi-headed form of Cedric-Draco-Harry-Voldemort, and the monster writhed in pain. A foreign, evil voice boomed deeply in the background. "The end is not the beginning! There is no circle! There is no heaven for those whom it's abandoned! There is no hope! Closed are the doors of heaven to those who have crossed safely before!"

* * *

"Ginny! Ginny, m'girl, 'tis a dream, come back!" Moody said again, clearer this time.

Searing hot pain hit Ginny's palms and feet, and she struggled against an unknown foe. An unfamiliar wetness stained her cheeks. "No!" she screamed. "No! No! No!"

"Ginny, calm down. A dream, only a dream," Moody soothed. Slowly the dream world melted away like water from an icicle, and her vision gradually increased, though tears still burned her cheeks.

And then came the breakdown. Realizing she was alone in a room with the only person alive who understood her, Ginny's walls failed her, and she collapsed. Wracking sobs hit her hard, and she convulsed painfully against the strong arms of Moody. All the while, he soothed her hair, murmuring soft words of comfort in her ear, rocking her slightly as a father would his child. Ginny clung to him fast and sobbed into his sturdy shoulder.

"Shh," Moody said calmly. "Just a dream, m'girl, just a dream."

"They – they said – I wasn't," Ginny hiccupped and bawled.

"Shh, come now, come," Moody said, trying to pacify her. "It can't be that bad. Come, m'girl, let's get you some tea."

"They said I wasn't welcome back!" Ginny wailed. "I can't go back to heaven!"

"Nonsense," Moody said kindly, putting her upright. "Come down with me, and we'll talk all about it."

_

* * *

_

_April 9, 1997_

_Dear Diary,_

_I can't believe it. I broke; they finally broke me. Cedric, Draco, Harry, Tom, they broke me. I sat and cried for hours, cried for all the times I should have, cried for all the times I wanted to. Moody was so kind; he never said anything about how weak it was or how pathetic I was. It makes me wonder if he really has it in him to kill; I mean, they always say he took live prisoners over dead._

_All those years of coldness...I was holding back a lot...too much. It had made me weak. If I'd been stronger, Draco would be alive...Cedric would be alive. I don't want to lose what I was though. I can still be powerful, beautiful, aggressive...even cruel if need be. But things have been changing. I don't have the same motivations I always had. Before it was keep alive and kill Tom...now...well, now it is the same, but by different means. I'll attack him head on now, the way he deserves to go down._

_Things don't hold the value they always did with me. Loyalty is important now. I know I'll always be loyal to Moody; there is nothing which can sway that now. I will be loyal to the cause; I will kill Tom._

_My life is changing. Before, it was all the same. A person becomes dull if things don't change. That is the way we grow: change, the great teacher. I've learned a lot. I used to think nothing in the world was beautiful, nothing worth saving or hoping for. But there is beauty; I sit and look to it every night._

_I remember well my lessons. I don't want to turn into Brigid Allen, cold and distant, living in a hell made by her selfish desire to be with Lucius, to be his and him be hers. I won't turn into that woman sitting in Azkaban, just waiting for her time to die. I refuse. It's no way to live. I've died and come back, and I can tell you that isn't truly living. I'll live now, and no one can stop me...least of all Tom._

* * *

Moody walked into the headmaster's office and hung his cloak on the coat rack. Looking about the room, he slowly turned to the desk and saw Dumbledore wasn't there yet. Moody sat down in a chair facing the desk and took a swig of his flask.

"Ah, Alastor," the cheery headmaster said. Moody grunted; maybe he wouldn't have to wait so long after all. "How are you? Care for a lemon drop?"

Moody snorted and ignored his questions. He knew he was probably the only person in the world who could be rude to Albus Dumbledore and not care. He'd known him too long, even before that blue twinge became permanent in the old man's eyes. "The girl is almost ready."

Dumbledore cracked a smile as he leaned back in his seat. "Is that so? And Voldemort, does he know?"

"Not a clue; thinks she's simpering about in a protected place. Can't see beyond the Fidelius Charm. Who the Secret-Keeper is I don't know."

"Ah," Dumbledore said, "that is the two hundred Galleon question. It is as it's always been."

"But can we trust him? He is around Voldemort every day; the chance it could slip from his forked tongue..." Moody mused.

"Severus may have been a Death Eater, but he is loyal and won't ever betray us. The closer the secret is to Voldemort, the further he'll be bound to look," Dumbledore said wisely. "But tell me more of Miss Weasley."

"Took her to see Brigid Allen the other week," Moody said. "Could have been the same person, you're right. We've managed to capture the young Weasley's attention for now, managed to save her for a while. I don't know when, but soon she will feel the pain of loss. Then...then...well, then I don't know what will happen. She's like petrol near a flame, likely to go off, depending on which way the wind blows. One step in the wrong direction and she'll be off.

"She's been having dreams of late, horrific dreams, nearly every night. She barely sleeps, preferring to keep the dreams at bay by extreme meditation. Orion and Demetrios say she feels the universe so completely she could be mistaken for an elf were she to travel with them. She mastered the elemental training in less than a month; Arabella says she's fast on her way to becoming the most talented Arithromancer of the century, right after she becomes the most powerful Charmer and Transfigurer. The girl has a gift, too much of a gift. No wonder Voldemort wanted her soul.

"There is something ancient about her, something primal and deep. Looking through her eyes is like looking through time; one wrong step and you're captivated. There is something eternal about them too. Brown should be warm and inviting; hers is punishing. It's a hard, metallic brown, bronze, gold, and copper fused together. She's a snake charmer, and everyone is a helpless reptile in her wake. So much power, so much beauty, so much potential and ambition, it hardly seems right that it should be in one person."

Moody sighed, trying to figure out how to proceed. "But she has so much pain. You want to cry for her when she's sad, pray for her when she's in danger, love her when she's feeling unwanted. I'm sure if she asked it, I'd end my life for her...anyone would."

Dumbledore nodded. "I think I might as well. What she did to us, the year we tried to take her to Delphi...I've never forgotten that. Severus, Sirius, Harry, and I tried, as I told you. We thought it would be for the best; at least the enemy wouldn't have her. We tried to take advantage of her, and she shot back with all her force. Her power was unimaginable. Were she to go to war, truly go to war, none of us, no one, would stand against her. And yet...and yet she carries so much pain. So much pain in one person, and she's spreading it about her like a hurricane." Dumbledore snorted. "Hurricane Weasley was her Quidditch nickname. They called her the Hurricane.

"Some day there will be no one left to stop her, Alastor. Some day she'll become so enraged the power will seep from her very skin, and no one will stop her, no one will be able to. I fear that day, Alastor, truly I do. It is the most horrible thing I can imagine. A dark queen to rule us all. We would love her, love and fear her, but always love her. She would be the Goddess; she still may be." Dumlbedore shook his head again. "They called her the Hurricane."

* * *

"I can teach her no more, Alastor," Arabella said moodily. She rapped her fingers on the table and looked out at the sunset. Beyond the porch, Ginny sat watching the sun sink behind the low hills. She sat there every evening, watching day become night. "I can't teach her."

"Arabella," Moody said sternly. "I know you don't like her, but she's trying to be civil. Can't you do the same?"

Arabella's jaw clenched, and her fingers stopped their drumming as her left eye twitched a bit. "Moody. I. Can't. Teach. Her."

"Arabe—"

"I don't know any more, Alastor! She's bypassed me completely! She's working with theories, thinking their fact, and they are working! I can't direct her any more; there's no more knowledge left! Gone! Vamos! Fin! Over! Caput! Nilch! Nada! Zero! Are you understanding the words that are coming out of my mouth?"

Moody opened his mouth then wisely shut it again.

"Look," Arabella continued, "she's good; I'll give her that. But she's not ready. I can see it in her eyes. She's still changing, evolving. She doesn't know who she is. Hell, she doesn't know _what _she is! For that matter, I don't either!"

"Arabella," Moody said calmly, "that's why we are here. She's growing because of us. Did you think she was going to do it on her own? Are you telling me it is Fletcher's turn at her?"

Arabella snorted and turned back to Ginny. "Yes."

Moody nodded. "Would you like to say goodbye?"

She sighed. "Yes." Then she stood and left Moody on the porch.

Moody watched with interest as Arabella made her way onto the field and stopped behind Ginny. Although he couldn't hear them at this distance, he could barely make out their conversation. Abruptly, Ginny threw her arms around Arabella, and they stayed like that for a moment. Arabella let go and kissed Ginny on each cheek. Then she left Ginny to the sunset. Moody could see the wet sheen of water on Arabella's cheeks as it reflected off the setting sun; then she Disapparated. She was going to Sudetenland to set up a spy ring. Arabella might never return, Sudetenland being the next place Voldemort had located, or at least that was the rumor. At any rate, Arabella was in for the long haul.

Moody watched the sun set from afar, admiring the way it made Ginny's hair shine and catch light. _Just like petrol,_ he reminded himself. He took a long drink from his flask and headed in, knowing Ginny probably wouldn't. It was warm, warm enough to stay out the night, as she had been doing. He trusted her and knew she'd be safe. Voldemort could walk onto his front lawn any day of the week and catch no sniff of her. Taking one last look at Ginny, she seemed already on fire.

* * *

"Ginny," Moody said to her, "this is Mundungus Fletcher, your new teacher. I know you've met, but that was a while ago."

Ginny nodded and faced Fletcher. He stared at her with his lethal eyes; they were shockingly purple. Ginny wanted to frown but figured they only appeared purple because of their shade of blue. They were hard eyes, not the sort one made friendly conversation with over tea on Sunday afternoons. He had a solid frame and dark, ill-kept hair. His skin was a strange olive color, and he was probably mixed raced.

"Miss Weasley," he said formally.

Moody nodded curtly. "I'll leave you two to your training; off with you now."

Knowing tickled Ginny's fingers, and they itched for her wand. It was spontaneous, but Fletcher noticed it. He smirked and inclined his head a bit. "Good, assessing a threat, the first step."

"There's something wrong; you aren't supposed to be a threat. You're supposed to be my teacher," Ginny commented lightly.

"Never trust to what others tell you."

"I trust Moody," Ginny said, immediately regretting it because she didn't actually trust anybody. But with this, it was safe to assume Fletcher was indeed her teacher, and it was also safe to assume this was a test and not merely a formality.

"Ah, do you?"

Ginny snorted, tired of the game. "Look, let's stop with the ritual dance. I'm a Slytherin; I've got the trust issues down pat. I've also got guilt issues, emotional detachment issues, revenge issues, hate issues, and stability issues pretty much squared away. Let's move on to what you want to really teach me, and we'll get along fine. I don't flatter myself; I don't think you want to be my best friend. I do think you have something to impart to me; that is the only reason I'm still here."

"Direct, aren't we?" Fletcher mused. "We'll have to fix that." He summoned a parchment from the air and jotted down a few notes before it rolled itself up and disappeared. Ginny waited patiently as he studied her with hauntingly purple eyes. He must have had his fill as he moved on. "What do you think I'm going to teach you?"

"I imagined it would be somewhere around the lines of dueling, fighting, self defense, et cetera," Ginny answered primly as she tossed her hair to the side and looked at him indignantly.

It was going to be a long few weeks.

_

* * *

_

_April 17, 1997_

_Dear Diary, _

_I watch the sunset now. It's soothing in a way I've never felt. They say that dusk is the end. That one day, dusk will come, and then there will be nothing. I crave that day. The worst thing is I'll be around to see it...or at least my soul will. I've traveled the paths of the universe, and I've seen my immortal soul. In reality, everyone's soul is immortal, but mine is cursed to stay on this earth and never travel the heavens as it once did. _

_I close my eyes and face the dull light of the moon. Sometimes there are gentle breezes; sometimes there is nothing. Sometimes I can hear the crickets; sometimes I can't. But always there is the universe. I contemplated a long time before writing this, wondering if it were a sin to describe the universe by such means as pen and paper. Damn the universe, I'll never get to travel it except in mind, never in spirit. _

_Anyway, I close my eyes and face the dull light of the moon. I reach out to that place just before the void. I feel the springy texture of the universe. It is like the tension on water you feel if you press down lightly enough on it, not enough to break the surface, but just enough to cause it to displace itself. But this water is thick and black. Stars dot the liquid and tease the imagination with their distance. When you press hard enough, your mind enters a place between the world you are in now and the place you will be when you die. _

_Magic and power roar here. You have to catch yourself, or you'll be swept away. You have to find the island, the safe place. Everyone has one; deep in their mind, it is waiting for them. It takes a while to find, it took me a while, but it's there just the same. Once you are on your island, you are free to look about you, observe the beauty. And it is – beautiful, I mean. All the peace, all the power, all the stability, it can take you away. It will if you let it. I won't though. I know if I were to do that, I'd never return. It would be death and living at the same time, impossible everywhere but there. _

_Soon enough, the world darkens around me. It is strange how it all surrounds me. I feel the soothing, cooling waters of peace inundate my mind, and I do my best to breathe. I like it better like that; it eases the fire burning in me. _

_The fire is hot, and I truly fear it. I know what will happen if I let it go. Destruction. Dumbledore saw it; that is why I'm here, learning to control it. I'm dangerous, not yet fit for the world. But then again, one could argue the world isn't yet fit for me. If I open too wide, open my heart, the raging inferno takes over, and that is when bad things happen. _

_Fletcher sees this. He is my teacher now. I don't know how to describe his relationship with me. It's clear to both of us we aren't friends, but neither are we enemies. It's always business with him, cold business. It is better for me if it's like that. He trains me hard. Some days I'll wake up, and he'll be standing there, ready to curse me and see what I'll do. Some days he'll watch me for a long time, analyzing my daily routine for flaws...then he'll curse me and see what I'll do. He's taught me valuable curses and counter curses, charms and tricks, potions and remedies. Fletcher knows basically every charm, curse, and incantation discovered by the wizarding world. _

_But I've learned things he'll never be able to teach me in my time after dark. I don't sleep; it's not what I need anymore. Rather, I find peace in the universe. It sustains me the way sleep would, only better. I sit and feel the flowing of the universe, the vibrations of the simplest things, the wavelengths of creation. Old magic dwells in the deep corners of the cosmos, and I'm captivated by it. But through the universe, you can find the most horrid things...I don't dare utter them anywhere. The deepest atrocities, betrayals, and chaos inhabit the dark places of space, and I feel them in me. It frightens me. It also frightens me that I now hold the capacity to fear. _

_Trust no one, that's the one thing I've learned. _

* * *

"Term is nearly out," Moody said casually as he took a drink from his flask.

Ginny wasn't fooled, however. She put down her Arithmancy book and frowned slightly. "And?"

Moody shrugged. Then he shifted in his seat, so he could look at her with his good eye. "I'm taking on a new student at the request of Albus Dumbledore."

"Good for you," Ginny said testily. She'd known this had been coming for a long time now. The spring was rapidly drawing to a close, and that meant classes at Hogwarts would be ending. It also meant the other third of the prophecy would need to finish his already started training. Harry Potter was coming to study under Moody. "Let me know when to pack."

"You won't be packing, and you know it," Moody grumbled. "We've gone over this, and you know what will happen. It's not like he'll be living here anyway. Hell, you'll barely see him. And even if you did, so what? You'll be working with him to defeat Voldemort; who cares if you don't like him?"

"How is the real question," Ginny said snidely. She was still uncomfortable with the fact that no one really knew how she was going to defeat Voldemort, just that somehow she was. She knew it had something to do with the Intihuatana stone, the winter solstice, and The Alignment, but other that that, she was stumped.

"A question we already have people working on," Moody said matter-of-factly. "Now I've got a question: how are you getting on with Mundungus? How are classes?"

"I get on with Mundungus fine. As for classes, I learn more everyday. He is an excellent teacher, a good cross between strict and understanding." Ginny drew a small circle with her finger on the porch table. "He doesn't have much more to give, however. I can see he's running thin, and it's only been four weeks. What will I do when I have no one left to teach me?"

Moody sighed. Fletcher had told him as much. She was just too damn fast; that was the problem. She was _too_ smart..._too_ perfect. "Mundungus, Arabella, and the twins are the extent of my knowledge. For all they are, I made them; they are what I am. If they have nothing to teach you, I have nothing to teach you. You will stay here and advance yourself; explore, test, hypothesize, reject, then try again. We have time, limited time, albeit, but time. December is still a ways off yet. We'll be prepared; the forces Albus had made will be prepared."

"He has more?" Ginny asked, intrigued.

Moody just snorted. "You didn't think he'd send two seventeen-year-olds out to do an army's job, did you?!? Ha! No, m'girl, he has forces ready to take the final leap of faith for him. I call them his cult, his Noble Six Hundred. They'll follow him to whatever end and not bat an eyelash at it. Remus, Black, Snape, Fletcher, and Arabella even, McGonagall, the Patils, the Weasleys, and then some. He's got a veritable army waiting for those Death Eater scum if they attack."

Ginny cracked a smile. "I guess he does."

Moody nodded and looked to the sun as it sank over the low hills. Taking a drink of his flask, he grunted and put a foot on the table. "What do you do out there?"

Ginny put down her book again. "Out where?"

"I've talked to the twins. They say you go places, far away places. Orion says there hasn't been a person – man or elf – that can sail so expertly along the waves of time and space. They said they have a prophecy about you."

"What is that?" Ginny asked in a detached voice.

"The Woman Who Is Seven will come to Earth from time and space.

"She shall sail the currents of the cosmos as though she were born to them,

"Navigate the stars as though she were one,

"Live as a fallen angel on this world.

"She will come bearing the ultimate fire wreathed in ice.

"She shall be the savior, or she shall be the slayer.

"Her soul shall not be killed, and her sword shall be unsheathed at the turning of the tides.

"All shall love her and despair."

Moody took a drink and considered her expression. It was that of one who didn't like what they heard, but was still deliberating.

"That fire is in me," Ginny whispered hoarsely. "I can feel it eating at me. Once I thought it was emotion building in the depths of my soul. I would do anything not to feel it; I would do anything to keep it frozen. I called it the lion. I was convinced that a lion and a snake were fighting for dominance, my soul deliberating if I were Gryffindor or Slytherin."

"And now?" Moody urged.

"The fire will be my undoing. My first instinct was to bury it, never let it out. Had I been sorted into Gryffindor, I would have been lost to it. Since I was in Slytherin, I could control it, soothe it. Alastor," she said, looking up at him plaintively, "it would kill us all, that fire. Had it the chance, it would escape and devour this earth and all its splendor."

"Yes," Moody answered, though it hadn't really been a question.

Ginny's head fell. "That is why I've been preparing, isn't it? To control the fire. I need to release it when the time is right, when I'm facing Tom. It will destroy him."

"What?"

"I – I – I can't control it, Alastor," Ginny whispered. "I never will be able to. If I release it, it will be lost to me."

Ginny looked at Moody as he thought. She could practically feel the wheels turning in his head. "So that is what he is for," Moody said cryptically. Then he jetted to life. "Get your cloak! You and I must see Albus now!"

On command, Ginny grabbed her cloak, throwing her book on her bed. Immediately she met Moody downstairs and saw he had his wand at ready on her arrival; she drew hers, not knowing why, and they Disapparated to the gates of Hogwarts.

* * *

The forest was far from silent as they tread down the path and past the lake. It was familiar to Ginny, familiar in a way she wanted to forget. The sun had set, but that meant nothing to the Hogwarts population; there was a Quidditch match, Gryffindor vs. Ravenclaw by the colors.

"Damn!" Moody swore, looking about the campus. Everyone was at the stadium; they could hear the calls and cheering. "You had to choose now to make a groundbreaking discovery, didn't you, Sprite?"

Ginny rolled her eyes and looked at the brightly lit Quidditch field. People she knew would be there, people she'd...it wasn't important. True, she didn't know what was happening right now (as Moody was being far from forthcoming), but it wasn't important.

"We'll just have to call him away from the game," Moody said. "Come on now, and try to keep hidden."

Ginny pulled her gloves on tighter and shifted her hood far over her head, so no one could see her face. She and Moody trudged along the cool grass and down to the pitch. The cheering was louder, annoyingly so. Upon entering the stadium, Ginny's eyes were assaulted with waves of red and gold, along with blue. People applauded the Quidditch players loudly as they flew about the field. Gryffindor was ahead by a lot, and the announcer was annoyingly high pitched.

"Up there," Ginny said above the crowds as she pointed to the headmaster. Snape, Lupin, and McGonagall were seated around him, watching the game.

Moody nodded, and she followed him to the seats, up the stairs and to the level of Albus Dumbledore. No one paid them any attention as they stepped on the landing, no one save Dumbledore.

"Albus," Moody grumbled, taking down his hood. "We need to talk. There have been some...developments."

By now, everyone in that section was looking at Moody and Ginny, but Ginny was confident they didn't know who she was.

"I understand, Alastor," Dumbledore said, rising from his seat and making his way across the aisles. "I have a few things I need to discuss with you as well. Perhaps your guest would like to watch the rest of the match? It's very exciting."

"I don't think that would be wise, Albus. My guest – "

"Is perfectly able to take care of herself, I do believe," Dumbledore interrupted. "Now, please sit, Madam; enjoy the rest of the match and come to my rooms when it has ended."

Ginny sighed and nodded, taking the headmaster's place on the bench, only to be stared at by Snape, Lupin, and McGonagall. She watched as Moody and Dumbledore made their way across the field and to the castle. Shifting her head to the pitch, she watched the game.

Soon she could hear Lupin and Snape talking quietly.

"Who is she?" Lupin asked.

"Hell if I know; you ask her," Snape suggested.

"If she is a guest of Dumbledore's..."

"I'll ask her then," Snape growled. "Who are you?" he barked. This annoyed Ginny because it was the voice he used on his students.

Turning her head slightly toward him, just enough to catch the lower half of her face, she said, "A friend of Moody and Dumbledore."

"What business do you have here at Hogwarts?"

"The sort of business that doesn't appreciate or require people nosing around in it," she replied firmly.

"I think what Professor Snape meant to say," Lupin interrupted calmly, "was I am Professor Remus Lupin, and he is Professor Severus Snape; who are you?"

"I know who you are," Ginny answered in a steely voice. There was a great roar of the crowds. The Snitch had been caught by Harry. "You know who I am too."

"I do?" Lupin asked quietly.

"Weasley," growled Snape.

"Indeed," Ginny answered. "Now I must be leaving; business calls."

* * *

**Author's Notes:** "Quid Quo Pro, Professor.º" – Not mine. Almost shamelessly taken from "Silence of the Lambs."


	15. Shadowboxing

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN: Shadowboxing**

"The life which is unexamined is not worth living."

– Plato

* * *

Harry was making his way down the halls when he spotted it. A quick, shadow-like movement. He wouldn't have noticed it if he hadn't been wearing his invisibility cloak and paying extra attention around him. The party at Gryffindor Tower was raging; he'd been voted to get more food, and that was why he was out. Now he was torn between the kitchens and this shadow. The shadow was by the headmaster's door, which in itself was reason enough to investigate, but he really wanted to get back to the party; it'd only just begun after all.

In the end, curiosity took control, and he crept closer to the entrance of the headmaster's office. That was when he heard it, the most beautiful voice he'd ever heard...and he knew to whom it belonged.

"They think they can keep me out here until I go to sleep! They think they can just exclude me from their plans! I'm part of the damnable plans too, those manipulative bastards! 'Perhaps your guest would like to watch the match,' my arse! You wanted to get rid of me, you insufferable old badger!"

It was Ginny! Harry could see her more clearly now, pacing up and down the hall, a cloak of undeterminable color and shape fluttering around her. Not only that, she was angry. Harry could never resist her when she was angry. He'd been trying to exorcise her from his thoughts of late. He'd been trying to forget, to purge her from his mind. He'd been on the brink of succeeding until now.

She took off her cloak and threw it angrily at the stone gargoyle. She was just as beautiful as he'd remembered. True, it hadn't been that long since he'd seen her...but it had _seemed_ like ages. He remembered the day she died. It was the worst day of his life. Hell, every day was the worst day of his life until the next one arrived when it came to Ginny.

She would act like she detested him for weeks on end; then she would look at him with those eyes...those copper-tinted, strong-willed, beautifully captivating, fascinating eyes, and he'd be lost. They whispered hints of love and trust and redemption...but they lied...always they lied. And he hated them for it. He'd hate them until he'd feel the hate so deeply he'd lash out. All his instincts would tell him to kiss her, and he hated that she'd kiss him back. It only made it worse in the morning.

The morning he'd awakened to find her dead, crucified over the lake with the Dark Mark looming above her, had been the epitome of bad days. He'd wanted to kill himself. He wanted to kill Voldemort. He wanted to kill Malfoy. He'd wanted to kill every Slytherin he saw.

But then Dumbledore told him she lived, told him that by some chance of the universe she was all right...but not accepting visitors. Even his invisibility cloak had its boundaries, and walking through walls wasn't one of those he could break. He'd not seen her since that morning, bloodied and broken. All the blood, all the pain she must have endured, made him mad with grief. Thinking about it enraged him. She'd looked pale, yet angelic and pure. The way the blood contrasted with her hair and skin and dress had given her an almost saintly, almost beautiful, look. But it was wrong, distorted, and ugly.

Now, right before him, she walked, pacing swiftly up and down in front of his eyes. Her fiery hair whipped behind her and her bronze/gold/copper/brown eyes glinted dangerously. She wore all black, a tight fitting shirt and only slightly looser trousers with black, dragon hide gloves.

"And to leave me there...of all places! With Lupin and Snape! Why not just beg for trouble? Why don't they throw in Harry Potter along with Black, Lupin, and Snape with me in a pit and see how long I stay from killing them all? Bloody hell! 'Enjoy the rest of the match and come to my study when it's ended,' MY ARSE! They wanted to get rid of me! Pip, pip, cheerio and all that! School buddies having a drink and discussing MY LIFE!"

Harry half wanted to stop and watch her and half to stop and kiss her. She had that wild look in her eyes, and it turned him on. _You've got to play this one cool, Potter,_ he reminded himself. _Be casual..._

He resolved to watch her until she noticed him. Throwing the invisibility cloak over his shoulder, he leaned against the wall and waited quietly and patiently. To his surprise, it took her a while to realize he was there.

"_You!_" she half gasped, half growled. He watched as her wand hand twitched, irritated, at her side. She raised her chin to meet his eyes defiantly. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," he returned nonchalantly. This was easier now that he felt in control. "Besides, _I_ go here..._you _don't."

Her frown deepened, and she clutched her hands at her sides. Then she turned her head from him, giving him a view of her magnificent profile. "That's right. Now move along; I have important matters to get to."

Harry snorted. "Bollocks. They are leaving you out of their conversation, whoever 'they' are, and you can't stand it."

"And?" she said coolly, still not looking at him.

"And I want to know why you're here," he finished. He didn't know how, but she'd changed. She wasn't as cold and unapproachable. She was more soulful, more powerfully enchanting and elegant. She'd gained something while she'd been gone, and Harry couldn't point out quite what. Whatever it was, he liked it. It made her more human, more dangerous, more flammable even. He also felt like he had a connection, almost a power over her. There was something inside her he needed, he could control. He liked the feeling...a lot.

"And _I_ want to know why you're stalking me," she returned spitefully. The force of her ire hit him full force, like a fiery hurricane. He usually felt cold ice radiating from her. "Never mind. Just leave. I don't want to talk to you...hell, I don't even want to see you!"

"No," he said plainly.

"No?" she repeated, turning to face him. "No? What is that supposed to mean?"

"I think you do want to see me," he replied.

She sighed deeply and rolled her eyes. Then she crossed her arms and looked at him sideways. "Do us all a favor and get over yourself. You aren't God, and you certainly aren't my savior. Why do you bother?"

"I have some motivation," he answered cryptically, on purpose as he knew she'd hate it.

Ginny put up her hands in surrender. "Fine!" she said. "Fine! I don't care anymore!" Throwing her hands in the air, she turned from him and began massaging her temples forcefully.

Harry licked his lips with anticipation. Rounding her, he passed in front of her silently. She didn't look up or acknowledge him, just rubbed her temples with her eyes closed and her breath a forced calm. Slowly, he reached for her gloved hands and took them off her forehead, placing his there instead and applying pressure to the aching areas in a rhythmic pattern. Gracelessly, she tilted her head up at him, her eyes still closed and her lips slightly parted. She looked vulnerable, a thing he'd only seen thrice before in his life. Her breath hit his face in quick intervals, though they were slowing. All her body language told him she wanted to be kissed.

Harry stopped his ministrations, and Ginny's eyes opened lazily. "Don't..." she said softly.

He didn't know if she meant don't stop or don't kiss me, but she didn't look like she even knew...so he kissed her. Bringing his hand under her chin, he lifted her lips to his and kissed her lightly. She tasted sweet and hot, her warm lips deceivingly soft and giving. Hesitantly, he licked her lips, and they parted just enough for him to taste her tongue before he pulled away and looked down on her. Slowly she backed away from him, her eyes and face completely unreadable.

Before he could analyze it any further, the passageway to Dumbledore's office opened, and out stepped the headmaster himself. "Ah, Harry," he said warmly. "I see you're getting reacquainted with Miss Weasley here. Do be so kind as to let me have a word with her, and don't forget your cloak."

Harry looked over at Ginny, but she had already steeled over. Her face was a mask, and her arms were crossed, nothing like she looked like earlier. Finally, he nodded at the headmaster and left, intent on figuring out what the hell he'd done and why.

* * *

"Miss Weasley," Dumbledore said, once they were seated in his office.

Moody had told him everything, down to the last detail. He should have remembered the elf prophecies. "Always remember the elves," his brother Aberforth had told him. "ALWAYS remember the elves. You get stuck; REMEMBER THE ELVES!" Aberforth had a thing for elves; he was living with them now...or, rather, was stalking a group of them through their woods. On reflection, Aberforth was odd, and no one should take his advice. Though now it fit.

"How nice to see you again."

"Yes, well," Ginny said coldly, "isn't it always. Mind telling me why I was stuck out there with Boy Wonder for fifteen bleeding minutes?"

Moody grunted and made eye contact with Dumbledore. "I'm sorry," Dumbledore continued. "We try to prevent night walking on the campus, but after Quidditch matches many people feel rules no long apply."

"Why am I here?" she asked. "You two have already discussed everything; why do you need me?"

"No reason, really; we only wanted to let you know there has been a development. But we can't tell you what it is. We think it would be counterproductive to your learning and the form the prophecy takes. But we wanted to let you know the logistics of the whole mission are squared away, and all you have to do now is successfully complete your training and arrive at Machu Picchu at the designated time."

_

* * *

_

_April 25, 1997_

_Dear Diary,_

_Rage! Rage! Rage against authority! Jesus fucking Christ on a cracker, I'm angry! And why not? They were dangling it in front of me like a carrot on a string, and I want blood! Lots of red, messy, thick, sweet blood, and I want it NOW! Their blood in a cup or on my hands or spread all over the floor – I really don't care. How DARE they!?! How could they think this is right, that this is fair!?! Do they think I'm some insignificant flea on their backs they must live with? I'm the fucking prophetical savior here to (somehow) save us all! How can they just ignore me!?! Rage, I say! Rage! _

_They even left me out there with Wonder Boy! Dumbledore knew he was there – that old badger knows everything – and he didn't do anything about it. He knew; mark my words, he knew! It's all a play to him, a game, something to amuse himself with. At one point, I would have settled to be a pawn (if I were a well-fed, important, and powerful pawn) and played along because I would find a way to gain something. Since I have nothing to gain and nothing to lose, I can act however the hell I please. I don't want to be played with anymore! Those days are gone; they have died. _

_Gods! He confused me! I swear...I didn't want to. I vaguely remember saying "don't," but it is all a mess now. Why'd Harry have to be there? Why'd he have to catch me then? I was fine...perfectly content (well, as much as I can be). Then he comes and ruins everything. I can see it in his eyes, that manic glint...he knows something. He has some power over me. I was cold to it before, safe from it._

_But something has awakened in me; I fear it is the fire. The days grow closer, I can feel them, and the fire grows hotter, harder to control. Nysilia's ring barely works. The only thing that keeps it down is the awesome power I find in the universe._

_He was too close...far too close. His eyes, they captivated me. They have that ability, to capture you. Especially me. It's the power he's been given. I think he could control me if he pushed hard enough. He won't though; I can see it in him; he doesn't have that quality. But he could...and that is the point. It makes me wary of seeing him again, wary of my own weakness._

_Someday he'll call, and I'll not be able to resist any longer._

_It's the prophecy, I know. Something gives strength to this force, some unseen agenda of the cosmos, some powerful agenda. "What" is one question. "How" is another which could be considered. But what I want to know is why. Why? What is the point? Why would the magic do this? Reonet saw it, saw it clearly. She gathered her remaining strength and made my soul immortal, so I could fulfill this quest she believed in so much. She cursed me so because of her faith in the prophecy. So why? Maybe it will become clear, and maybe it won't. _

* * *

School was out. It was summer.

It was the time Ginny had been dreading. Soon (but hopefully not too soon), Harry would be coming over daily. Harry – who she hated. Harry – who she despised. Harry – who could rule her. Harry – who could love her.

This last bit scared her the most. Harry could love her. She'd never been loved. Never. Not really loved. Her and Draco's love had been twisted, a grotesque manifestation of the word. They needed each other, lived off each other. When young and impressionable, a symbiotic relationship could be confused with love. Draco had said he loved her...but nothing came of it. She'd never be able to love him now. Another time maybe...another world.

But Harry could. Harry did. She'd been mistaken when she'd told him he didn't know what love was that summer past. He might, and it terrified her.

She'd said she wanted to change, but everyone knew that saying a thing and doing a thing were two completely different matters. She'd lived to begin lots of the things she said, like finding forgiveness, seeking redemption. But loving came hardest and would probably come last.

Ginny wanted to hide from him, never come off the peaceful island in the universe. But she couldn't; it wouldn't be right. She wanted to say right and wrong be damned, but that would go against her last words; it would go against her word. Slytherins might not be trustworthy now, but the type of Slytherin she was – and Moody was – was trusted. They were given respect. They held to their word. Now she would have to, simple as that.

Cracking her neck and standing, Ginny walked to Moody's house for breakfast. The sun was rising in the sky, but Ginny never watched the sun rise. The sun would always rise for her, never set. That was why she was fascinated by dusk. It was something she'd never have. She'd known it when she was given life again; she knew it better now.

Ginny found Moody and Fletcher sitting in the kitchen drinking coffee.

"Mornin', m'girl," Moody said pleasantly. Fletcher gave her a curt nod.

"Good morning," Ginny replied, grabbing a bit of food before sitting with them. She knew they were talking about what had happened the previous week at Hogwarts. She looked at each of them in turn and then focused on her breakfast; it was going to be a long day.

"What do you plan on doing today, Sprite?" Moody asked, apparently changing the subject from what it was before she'd entered.

Ginny shrugged. "I suppose I'll study a bit, then train more with the elements. I have a feeling they will be useful. I was kind of hoping I could find a place to live too. I mean, if we defeat Tom." Moody frowned, and Ginny went on. "Not that I don't want to live here; it's very nice, and you're so kind to let me under your roof. But I've been feeling lately like I'm wearing out my welcome."

"So does this mean you won't return to your house?" Fletcher asked.

Ginny snorted and said, "Would you? No. No, I'll buy me a bit of land, transfigure myself a house and live there. It would be more than I deserve to go home."

Fletcher grunted and turned his head to the clock on the wall. "Almost seven, Potter should be here soon."

Ginny sighed and left the table, heading to her rooms. One more reason to move out as soon as she could. She didn't really think Dumbledore or Moody would let her leave unless they defeated Voldemort, so all her hopes of leaving automatically were squashed.

Ginny sat at her desk and started to work on her Arithmancy problems. _You can never practice too much,_ she told herself.

* * *

Late that morning, Ginny found herself doing the strangest of things. She was voluntarily walking down the stairs and onto the porch where Moody sat watching Harry. Moody gave her an undeterminable look and turned his gaze back to Harry's training. Ginny had expected Harry's training to be different from hers, but she hadn't anticipated how.

"A sword?" Ginny questioned, cocking her head and looking quizzically at Moody.

"A sword," Moody repeated. "Good, you know your hardware."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Why does he have a sword?"

"That's my girl." Moody winked with his good eye. "Speak in complete sentences. He has a sword because that is what his part of the prophecy tells him."

"Tell me about it," Ginny said, pouring herself some tea after allowing Moody to test it for poison.

"Well," Moody said casually, "his work is much more clear-cut than yours, and I'm glad of it too. At the time of the final battle, he'll receive a sword, and he'll defeat Voldemort."

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "How do you know? I've never seen anything on paper that speaks of this."

"Apparently," Moody continued, "he was given instruction by seven extremely gifted men. They trained him to some point in dreams, giving him sacred objects he could use to his advantage."

"Such as?" Ginny pressured.

"He was given a dagger by the Egyptian wizard Ramses III. He was given a bow by a sturdy Japanese fellow by the name of Musashi. King Arthur even visited his dreams, said something about never, ever giving up and handed him a long sword – not Excalibur, but a grand sword, nonetheless."

"Where does he keep them all?" Ginny asked with a frown.

Moody shrugged. "He's got himself a trunk, hasn't he? Anyway, he's been getting training since his fifth year. I've got Matahachi out there right now, perfecting his technique."

"Will he be ready?" She shifted her eyes to the glistening Harry and Matahachi. By the looks of it, they'd been going at it for hours.

Moody was silent for a long time, so Ginny looked at him. Finally he said, "I pray to Merlin, Mab, and Morgana he will."

Ginny nodded and turned back to Harry and Matahachi. Matahachi was correcting some minor technique with Harry's hands, Harry smiling gratefully. "And if he isn't?" she asked darkly.

"God save us...and I'm not a religious man, Ginny," Moody said, matching her mood, and he took a long draught from his flask.

Ginny nodded again, still watching the two sword fighters' practice.

* * *

"Alastor, we have a problem."

_Unholy Mother of God_ was the first thing that popped into Moody's head. Dumbledore NEVER said "we have a problem," not unless there WAS a problem. In the hundred plus years Moody had known that old coot of a wizard, he had only a few times heard him say that particular phrase. Once was when the Potters died. Another was when Voldemort made his first attack on the world, the first Dark Revel. When Dumbledore said "we have a problem," there was a problem, and most likely a problem that would get people killed and history rewritten.

"What?" Moody asked through the fire.

"You need to come immediately. Bring Fletcher too." Dumbledore's head disappeared in the flame, and Moody slumped slightly in his seat at the kitchen table.

Harry snorted in his sleep suddenly and woke up, his green eyes lined with dark circles and his hair array. "Wuh?" he asked sleepily, putting on his glasses. "I fell asleep? What time is it?"

"Time for you to be gettin' on home," Moody grumbled. "I've been called to a meeting with Dumbledore, sounds important."

Harry rubbed his eyes again and stood, cracking his back. "Right then, I'll just have a spot of coffee and Disapparate. Don't wanna get splinched or anything."

Moody grunted and Apparated to the front gates of Hogwarts, making sure his cloak was pulled tightly around him. Walking swiftly through the campus, he noted every sound and movement. Dumbledore's tone had given him enough reason to be extra careful. Upon reaching Dumbledore's office without incident, he took off the hood of his cloak and looked around the room and the faces of all the teachers.

"Where's Celeste Sinistra?" Moody grumbled, noting she was the only one of the staff not present.

"We don't know," McGonagall said shortly, a thin frown on her lips. "We don't know a lot of things right now."

Dumbledore gave McGonagall a sideways look and turned to Moody. "There's been a problem, Alastor. The Trapezium is missing."

"The Trapezium," Moody mused. "Imperius?"

"The place reeks of it," Snape grunted from a chair by the fire. "You should walk in her rooms. She didn't look like she was planning on going anywhere, all her things are where they normally are, and there are no signs of forced entrance or a struggle."

Dumbledore sighed. "She never could resist even the weakest of Imperius curses. We were all tested as an initiation for teaching here. Celeste was so good at what she did we could forgive that fault."

"What do you need me for?" Moody finally asked.

"We don't know why," McGonagall said primly, her thin lips curving downward again.

"If Miss Weasley said anything about it, anything at all..." Dumbledore prompted.

Moody was silent for a long time. Then his good eye sparked. "Yes, she did say something, rather, wrote something. She's an expert Arithromancer." Veronica Vector smiled proudly. "I saw it in one of her theories, an equation that looked complicated – lots of abstract and double runes. I could go and get it. Perhaps you can make sense of it; I only understand the elementary, not the numerous theories."

Dumbledore nodded, and Moody left the office.

* * *

It wasn't a _good_ idea; he knew it as soon as he left the house. Hell! He knew it as he was walking down the steps of the porch and onto the soft, green grass. But when he looked out the window, he couldn't resist.

She sat, her body in the Japanese tea drinking position, her face turned upon the bright and shimmering moon. It seemed to shimmer only for her, only on her. It reflected off her mid-back length, fire-red hair, giving it a pale, ethereal look. Her skin glowed in the moonlight, making her a heavenly object, something worth worshipping. The only thing which gave her any look of earthliness was her clothes. She wore black. In the weeks he'd been training, he'd never seen her wear any other color. She was wearing a black skirt and black, short-sleeved shirt with her trademark dragon hide gloves. He knew it must be because of the scars, the scars she'd received when she'd been crucified.

Harry shuddered with anticipation. The very thought of her crumbling before him like that time at Hogwarts made him itch to touch her, discover how she ticked.

Her voice made him stop. It was slow and soft, as though she was there, yet in another world altogether. "Hello, Harry. How are you?" She didn't look at him; she kept her face to the moon and her eyes closed.

"I'm fine," he answered easily. "How are you?"

"Surviving. Was there something you wanted?"

_Merlin, yes,_ he moaned silently. He dared a few more steps, getting close enough to stand in her light.

"I don't feel Alastor in the house right now," Ginny continued, "so you might have to wait a while."

"I don't want Moody," Harry confessed, taking more steps towards his prey. Ginny turned to him sharply, her metallic bronze eyes stopping him in his tracks. That, however, didn't stop him from finishing what he wanted to say. "I want you."

Ginny's face and eyes went blank. It was as if all emotion had been drained from them. "Leave, Harry," she said quietly.

"No," Harry said forcefully. "Not until you tell me why."

"No! Not until _you_ tell _me _why! Why are you doing this, Harry? Draco is dead! You don't have to compete with him anymore! Leave, Harry!" Ginny exploded. Standing and facing him with her full height, she stared him in the eyes, her eyes flashing a color dangerously close to red as they caught an odd angle of moon.

"This was never about him," Harry growled, glaring down at her. "This was always about me and how I felt towards you! You may not feel things, but I do! And I don't know why, but my heart tells me I love you. It's been telling me that for a while now, and I can't figure out why you can't feel that way too!"

"I. DON'T. KNOW. HOW," Ginny ground out. Her fists were clenched tightly.

"Let me teach you," Harry said, now in a pleading voice. "It's much easier than Arithmancy or Transfiguration or any of the things you're already good at. Everyone can do it; they are born with it. Let me help!"

Harry watched as her eyes began to glisten. He knew he was halfway through to her.

"Potter! What are you doing here still? I thought I told you to go home and get some sleep!"

_Damn it all to hell!_ Harry thought darkly. Turning around, he saw Moody walking up the lawn toward him.

"What the hell do you think you are doing?" Moody asked upon reaching Harry.

Harry opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out. Turning to look back at Ginny, he saw her dark form entering the small tree grove on the opposite side of the field.

"That is what I thought," Moody sighed. "Go home, Potter. I'll fix this when I get back. Then you and I are going to have a talk."

Harry nodded and Apparated home.

* * *

"Got 'em," Moody stated, throwing the stack of papers down on the headmaster's desk. "The whole novel. Damn, this is all one problem?"

Professor Veronica Vector leafed though the papers. "Yes, this is Miss Weasley's work. Very thorough, very neat, very advanced. This will take a few days to sort out. I'll get to work on it right away." Vector left the study, leaving Dumbledore, Moody, Snape, McGonagall, Black, Lupin, and Fletcher – who had arrived in Moody's absence – to themselves.

"How could this happen, Headmaster?" Lupin asked gloomily. "Celeste...it's a travesty indeed when a Hogwarts teacher has been taken."

"Yes," the headmaster agreed. "Yes, it's a travesty. We will weather it as we always have, with a strong backbone and hope in sight. In answer to how, who knows?"

"I didn't know Sinistra," Fletcher said, "but was she a very private person?"

"Oh, yes," McGonagall said promptly. "Celeste always liked her space; I remember her from _my _days at Hogwarts. She was two years below me. She was always astronomically inclined. She spent most of her time in front of star maps and excelled in Astronomy and Arithmancy."

"So she rarely left the Astronomy Tower?" Moody asked.

"_Very _rarely," McGonagall emphasized. Her eyes acquired a dreamy look. "Come to think of it...the last time I saw her leave the grounds was to go to Hogsmeade two weeks ago. She wanted the astroball, a new star charting system."

Fletcher and Moody looked at each other and nodded. "I'll need to examine her rooms, if you don't mind, Albus," Moody said.

Moody left the castle at about seven the next morning. It had been a long night...too long of a night. It was confirmed that Celeste Sinistra had been under Imperius for the past few weeks (the caster of the spell was still unknown) and had been ordered to take the Trapezium. Moody was still waiting for the results from Vector for the Arithmancy Ginny had done on the crystal.

From what he gathered from Dumbledore, the Trapezium had the power to conduct and hold large amounts of power and energy. Dumbledore assumed it was part of Voldemort's plans, but needed more information before he drew any concrete conclusions.

On top of all that, the fool of a boy Potter had gone and confused Ginny, chasing her off into the woods. Moody didn't fancy searching for hours about the grove behind his house for her either. Not that he wouldn't – he just didn't want to. But to his surprise, it wasn't that hard.

* * *

To the elves, there was no tree holier than the rowan. Fifty years ago, when Orion and Demetrios were his apprentices, they had planted a Holy Circle of Rowans, a natural center of worship in elfin religion, in his grove, so they could perform their rituals. There were thirteen trees on the outer ring, one for each month in the elfin calendar, and four trees circling a fifth at the center. The ring of four trees surrounding the fifth symbolized fire, earth, water, and wind. The tree at the center symbolized ether.

Moody had only dared to step in this ring a few times, afraid he would damage it in some way. But it was a beautiful sight. Even when they were mere saplings, they were magnificent. Now they were fully grown and developed...they were breathtaking.

Moody walked around the circle once and saw Ginny crouched beside the tree that symbolized earth. _Looking for stability, eh, Sprite?_ Moody thought. His ears picking up her soft, solid voice, he listened and watched.

"Ore le árbol tirra. Ora dy estabilidad, dy gía, dy ferza. Ore le árbol tirra, contesta sinceramente, sy ta perdio," she said in High-Elfin, one of the numerous tongues she'd picked up from Orion and Demetrios. It was maddeningly close to Spanish or Latin, but not enough so he could understand what she was saying. Perhaps asking for guidance, stability, or help.

But even Moody could feel what happened next. The world came to a brief silence; then the ground groaned, as if in answer to Ginny's prayers. It wasn't dangerous, like an earthquake, but a sorrowful groan, as though it was taking pity on her. Then a strangely purple light shot down from the heavens and hit the center tree, the Tree of Ether, which in turn shot at the Tree of Earth.

Ginny made a strangled sound, but upon closer examination, Moody saw she was crying. Not sobbing wildly like the first time, but quiet, long tears, which flowed soundlessly down her face. Her eyes were big and vulnerable, her hands shaking as she pulled off her gloves and placed her hands on the Tree of Earth. The tree seemed to sigh, and then it shone a dusty color. The glow was immediately infused into Ginny, her almost inaudible gasp the only noise. She promptly fell on the ground...hard. She didn't get up.

Picking Ginny up and throwing her gloves in his pocket, Moody carried her all the way to her bed. He laid her gently down and pulled off her shoe. "There's something special about you, Sprite," he mumbled, removing her other shoe and putting it on the ground by her bed. "Something special indeed."

Sighing, Moody pulled the covers over her and closed the door quietly. Just as he thought he could go lie down himself, Harry walked in the door. "Where's Matahachi?" Moody grunted.

"Well...there's been a bit of a problem," Harry said cautiously.

Moody groaned. "What now? All we need to happen to make this the perfect morning is for the sky to turn black and Armageddon to claim us all!"

"Matahachi has been injured, and he refuses to get it treated by magic," Harry blurted out.

"Fool," Moody scoffed. "What did he do now, the bloody, foreign barbarian?"

"He was sparring with Louis Kelley, and his arm was torn to ribbons. It isn't that bad, but it was his good arm, and he doesn't want to train until it's healed...the old fashioned way," Harry explained.

"Bloody fool of a wizard. Pft! Sword fighters! Give me a wand any day!" Moody looked sideways at Harry. "I suppose I'll take over; I've had formal training in sparring. Are you using broadswords or foils or what?"

"Bastard swords," Harry replied.

Moody nodded, going into his supply room and pulling out two, good-sized bastard swords. They walked out onto the grassy field and began to duel.

* * *

Ginny's sleep was troubled...if you could call what she was doing sleep.

She sat in a garden, a beautiful garden with roses and fountains and small paths and little waterfalls and every flower imaginable. It was smooth and sweet like spring afternoons and reminded Ginny of extreme peace. She knew where she must be, the Garden of Earth. The last thing she remembered was being called into the spirit of the tree, and her soul gladly left her body.

Looking down at the cool grass, Ginny noticed she was no longer in her customary black garb, nor was she wearing her gloves. In fact, she was wearing a perfect, white dress that trailed down to her bare feet. It draped loosely over her shoulders, reminding her of a Greco-Roman toga. She frowned and looked down at her hands. There were no scars, just pale white hands.

Drawing a ragged breath, Ginny glanced around her again. No one in sight. Upon seeing a small patch of grass, she decided to sit while she waited.

* * *

"That's good enough, Potter," Moody said, his arm aching from the intensity of the boy's blows. _He was meant to be a knight; there is no way around it, _Moody thought. _Even now, he looks at me as though I'm the enemy, minutes after battle. The fighting Gryffindor spirit, I see, is not to be taken lightly. Voldemort will not expect _this.

Moody took long breaths as he watched Harry. Harry ran his fingers down the side of the sword and frowned, his eyes squinting slightly. "The sword was a gift from a friend of mine," Moody said casually. "A monk, actually. He lived in a monastery off the coast of Ireland."

"It has great craftsmanship," Harry commented. "Good weight distribution, aerodynamic, good metal too."

Moody nodded. "It's a fine sword. And you're a fine swordsman. But that isn't what I want to talk about."

Harry sheathed the sword and looked at Moody expectantly. "What did you want to talk about then?"

"Ginny," Moody said simply.

Harry's face visibly paled, and his eyes widened a bit. "It she all right?" he asked cautiously.

"I believe not. And you aren't helping," Moody snapped. "You just have to go that much farther; you have to push the envelope that much more, don't you?"

"I –"

"I'm not finished, boy," he growled. "Ginny is precious to me, and I don't want to see her hurt...and I don't want you to play around with her. She's at a vulnerable time in her life, and having you around hasn't exactly been a walk in the park. What you're doing with her, toying with her new and impressionable emotions...it isn't right; it isn't fair, not to her and not to you, either."

"But –"

"Let me finish! She's going through...changes, Ginny is. She's trying to do the right thing, but she doesn't quite know what that is. She can't distinguish emotions and feelings yet; they are all a blur to her. So hold back your damnable teenage hormones a few months...maybe a year, depending on how she's feeling. You understand what I'm saying, Potter?"

Harry was silent for a little while before he spoke. "I understand. But you have to believe me, Moody; I would never do anything to hurt her...I...I love her. She's precious to me, too. I'm just afraid of losing her before she's even mine."

Moody snorted. "Well, there's your first problem. Ginny can't be owned. Maybe you should start thinking of her as a person instead of an object. Bloody Gryffindors! Is everything an object to possess with you lot?"

"One could say the same thing about Slytherins," Harry countered, green eyes flashing.

Moody examined him with both eyes and nodded. "I suppose you could. But I wouldn't go around with that attitude when talking about Ginny."

Harry nodded.

"Good," Moody said. "Are you ready for another round?"

The manic glint which formed in Harry's eyes when dueling became present once again. He unsheathed his sword and stood in the ready position.

* * *

Ginny didn't know how long she'd been waiting. A minute? An hour? A year? Time had no power here, no presence. It was eternally green and sunny with happy, white clouds floating blithely about in the atmosphere. She didn't hear any animals, but that didn't mean there weren't any. The smell of the garden was soothing and true...a great goodness for Ginny's troubled mind.

The only thing which could have made it more perfect was if it were night and she could float among the stars. But it was peaceful, and Ginny found no reason to want to move.

Looking into the distance, Ginny noticed a shimmering, undistinguishable form. It was a mirage almost, but not as clear, just light blurred into crooked and shifting horizontal lines. There was a familiar glow to it, something recognizable, but barely. Whatever it was, it was walking right at Ginny, not quickly, but steadily. As the form got closer, the shimmering became more distinguished, morphing into a more human light.

As the foreign figure advanced, Ginny stood and waited. The first wind she'd felt the whole time she was there picked up, and her white dress flapped around her calves.

"Ginevra..."

The name was carried by the wind, which was getting more intense, causing her dress to whip madly around her.

"Ginevra..." the voice said again, this time louder and closer, just like the sifting figure of light.

With a final, tremulous gust of air, the figure became clear to her, and all air died where it stood. Ginny fell on her knees, her lips slightly parted and tears flowing freely and steadily from her eyes.

"Sh...shh, Ginevra, it's all right."

"Draco," Ginny said in a whisper as he crouched on the ground in front of her and took her lightly into his arms. Ginny flung her arms over his shoulders and held him tightly to her, her breath coming out short and ragged as she cried quietly on him. He smelled like she remembered, felt like she remembered, looked like she remembered.

"Draco," she repeated brokenly into his neck.

"Sh, Ginevra," Draco said, kissing her lightly on the cheek. He smoothed her hair away from her face. "It's all right. Come now, no tears, Ginevra."

Ginny looked into his mercurial eyes and forced her tears to stop. "Draco...I – I don't understand. I'm so confused."

"It's okay," he said warmly. Helping her to stand, he looked down on her with complete love and trust in his eyes.

Realization dawned on Ginny. This wasn't Draco, not in full. Draco didn't know how to do that.

"I am him, in part," Draco said, reading her mind. "I am his better half; we are separated, you see. You know about that, right?"

Ginny nodded. "You're not really him then. He needs his other half to truly be Draco."

"Everyone needs their other half to truly be who they are, Ginevra," Draco answered.

Sniffing, Ginny let go of him, taking a step back. His platinum hair and pale skin were so familiar, but he looked different. He held himself differently; his eyes shone differently; his face didn't look quite right without the hint of a smirk he always wore. "Why am I here?" Ginny asked cautiously.

"You asked for guidance, stability, and hope. I've come to tell you help is on his way. Help always come to those in need, Ginevra," Draco explained.

"How?" she asked simply.

"Well, I shouldn't say to you directly, but to Harry."

"Pft! He doesn't need help. I need help."

"I'm afraid you're wrong there, Ginevra. You see, Harry needs the most help of all."

"Who, then, will help us...him?" Ginny asked darkly. "Dumbledore? Moody? The Ministry? Me?"

"Most certainly you, Ginevra," Draco replied. "But you haven't yet begun to help him the way you will later. No, I will help him; it has been agreed."

Ginny stared at him silently for a moment. "But aren't you...dead?"

Draco smirked, and Ginny's breath caught in her throat. "In part, yes. I have not yet left for the Elysian Fields. My soul took a very long time to become two...a very long time, and it isn't yet done. That is the only reason I'm allowed here now."

"But that means...you _aren't _fully separated! You can go to Earth in spirit form!" Ginny exclaimed.

Draco nodded. "Yes."

A cool wind blew, and the bottom of Ginny's dress waved around her ankles. Draco's figure became more vague and shimmered at the edges. "I have to go, Ginevra," he said, his voice growing distant as the wind picked up speed.

Reaching out to him, Ginny's hand met his, and it seemed to be electrically charged. Draco pulled her to him and captured her lips. She felt alive, yet cool and calm; it was the way heaven tasted. But he became less and less solid, and Ginny could feel her flapping dress moving through him.

"Ginevra," he sighed as his lips broke from hers, his figure too indistinguishable to see. Then the wind whipped around their bodies, and Draco was gone.

Ginny woke with tears on her face and tingling lips.

* * *

_May 17, 1997_

_Dear Diary, _

_It has been three long days since the dream, and still I feel the electricity in my veins. The way his skin felt on my bare shoulders, the way his lips tasted to my lonesome tongue...I still linger on those thoughts. I miss him terribly, though his words frighten me a little. He says he is returning; he says he can help. I am back, and my soul is damned. Why would he agree to this? Why would he do this? I don't understand. _

_Damn. I don't understand a lot of things lately. Like...everything. It's as if a bucket of boiling water has been dumped on my head and I'm supposed to learn about every drop of it and not get burned. I'd much rather have cold water, but that would defeat the purpose. Stupid emotions...but sometimes they feel so good...so right. _

_I tried to hide it, even from myself, but I liked being around Harry. His personality swept over my soul like cool water and covered me in it. If someone else tried to drown me like that, I'd kill them. But I wanted more from Harry. I wanted to feel his soul touch mine. I know that sounds odd, but I'd just been on the waves of the universe and I was still sensitive to those sorts of things. _

_That scared me. It scared me a lot, the fact I wanted more. That is why I ran. Why wouldn't I? I was confused, and, damn it, I still am! I shouldn't want to be near him; I shouldn't want to touch him! I should be disgusted with the very idea. He wanted to send me off to _ _Delphi__; he wanted to trap me. I can't help it, and I don't know what is wrong with me! _

_Damnable emotions! Things would be so much easier without them... _

_He said he would teach me...he said... _

_Stop it, Ginny! You are as bad as your fourth year! _

_But still... _

_I know at some point I'll have to face him, face myself. I hope it's not soon because I'd rather not...ever. But it will come; I feel the time approaching. I feel a lot of things approaching and some things leaving. The power of the rings is leaving. Not from this earth, from the rings themselves. It's all in me now, in Xanu, I think. I wonder what Xanu is for and why it's in me. The only think I truly know is their power is almost gone. Moody saw Nysilia's ring the other day. He didn't say anything, but I could tell by the way his magic eye looked at it he wondered about it. _

_I feel The Alignment coming fast. Before I couldn't, but now I can't imagine not feeling it. Sometimes the force of it is so great I want to hide, but there is nowhere to go. When Mercury passed by Venus the other week, I thought the ringing in my ears would never stop. Such intense power from only two planets, and the closest two to boot. As the planets get farther from the sun, they hold more power. When Pluto passes _ _Neptune__, I'm sure I'll pass out. Somehow I'll have to block it all out. _

_No, I'll have to deal with it. I'll be right there with Harry on the last day...or the first day if you think of it like that. Somehow I'll have to live through it. I'm too sensitive to it now, but nothing can be done. I wonder how Demetrios is; he was always very sensitive to the moving of the universe. For that matter, I wonder how the centaurs are. They, most of all, should feel this. They've known about it for years, every day the time getting closer. It must have been torture. _

_Anyway, I have more work to do. I want to somehow get in touch with Xanu; maybe it will know what to do. _

_I will wait for Draco; he said he was coming. It will be a short wait, I think. That is what the universe says._


	16. Long Road to Redemption

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Long Road to Redemption**

"The longest journey is the journey inward."

– Dag Hammarskjold

* * *

"Have a seat, Sprite," Moody said, motioning for the seat across from him on the porch table. Ginny had just left the lawn (the first time in a while, since she'd been unconscious for a week); the last drops of morning were still present on her skin and clothes. She nodded and sat next to him, letting him check her tea for poison before drinking it. "You know what I want to talk to you about?"

Ginny shook her head.

"The Trapezium has been stolen," Moody said. He watched her expression closely. She didn't even flinch.

Instead, she nodded. "Good."

Moody raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "Good?"

She nodded again. "Things are going on plan."

"Plan? What plan? Albus would have told me of a plan."

"Dumbledore doesn't know the plan," Ginny explained. "Who have you been getting your information from?"

"Albus. He has Vector figuring out your calculations; having a time with it too, as I hear from Albus."

Ginny raised her eyebrow questioningly.

"You've missed a bit, I guess," Moody apologized. "The night you talked to Harry was the night I got a call from Albus. He told me the Trapezium had been stolen. When I got there, Fletcher and I deduced that Celeste Sinistra, the Astronomy professor, had stolen it while under Imperius. Albus wanted to know why, and no one knew. I said I'd seen you with your Arithmancy and something about the Trapezium and a whole ton of other stuff I'd never heard of. So I came back here and got it. I gave it to Vector to mess with, then came back, saw you on the ground in the Rowans, and put you in bed. The rest you know."

Ginny looked at him doubtfully. "Excuse me, but Professor Vector isn't going to be able to understand _those _equations. Arabella wouldn't even be able to work those particular equations; I doubt anyone could. I barely understand them. I don't think it's wise to let Vector messy my notes."

"What do you propose we do then?" Moody said grumpily.

"Well...I see Vector becoming very confused, a bit angry and hurt, too, in the next week or so, because she doesn't understand a thing she sees. Then she will undoubtedly try to contact you through Dumbledore, so she can talk to me. I say we find a way to keep her away from the project. She doesn't have that much to do with it anyway, so who cares?"

"You're probably right. Now, why don't you tell me where you've been getting your information," he prompted.

Ginny took another drink of tea before answering. "Arithmancy doesn't just tell the mathematics of blocking and casting spells, Alastor. When used correctly, it can tell the logistics for large transfers of power or even give possibilities for the future. The power is all in the runic symbols. I've been doing some...experiments, so to speak."

"Were all those predictions?" Moody asked.

Ginny shook her head. "No. Most of it was me trying to figure out how Tom was supposed to get all that energy from The Alignment and the Trapezium. I wanted to know why, so when the time comes, I'll have an idea of what is going on, while hopefully other people won't."

Moody frowned and took a long drink from his flask. "Albus says you could have been an oracle, maybe even should have."

Ginny's face steeled, her eyes becoming hard and inflexible. "Dumbledore would have damned me to a living hell. He would have sent me to Delphi, and then where would we be? We'd be without the third wheel of the prophecy, that's where we'd be."

Moody rolled his eyes and sneered slightly. "That's not what I meant. I meant what does the future say, if you're so damn all-knowing?"

"I wouldn't tell you even if I knew," Ginny said. "Besides, the future doesn't work like that. The closest concrete detail I know is that somewhere in America a young witch is going to be born with purple eyes, and they shall call her The Messiah. What happens after that is a mystery."

"What does that mean?"

"I have no idea. It's the only thing I can see right now. Occasionally, if I look very hard, I can see a form, a shadow if you will. But things are moving so fast now, decisions and choices are being made, all of which contribute to the future; it's impossible to see them all." Ginny sighed and stirred her cooling tea with her forefinger. "It's like a fast flowing river; bubbles of inspiration and identification surface and pop before you can see them sometimes. It's very confusing, and it gives me a headache...that and The Alignment."

"It is close then?" Moody asked.

"Most assuredly. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a few things I need to be doing."

Moody nodded, and Ginny left.

* * *

Harry Potter was an exceptional failure at ignoring his heart. He wouldn't defy his heart for all the tea in China, nor would he defy his gut instinct. There was no way around it; he was officially a failure. Not only that – he didn't care. Upon reflection, it was probably her skin this time. Before it had mainly been her hair; now it was her skin. She'd simply shown too much and driven his teenage hormones to distraction as a result.

_She didn't think anyone was watching,_ he told himself. _That means she probably doesn't want to be followed._ That was his brain.

Why listen to his brain when he had a perfectly good heart?

So there he was, standing outside a ring of obviously powerful trees, watching her pray or something in front of them. To his ears, she was speaking an ancient and musical tongue; it rang and resounded in the glen.

At first nothing seemed to happen, but as her song became more complex, the winds picked up slightly, and magic saturated the air.

_

* * *

_

_No,_ Ginny thought. She knew what was going to happen. _No!_ Her senses told her that HE was there. _Damn it!_ She should have known better. The Holy Circle of Rowans could be used as a channeling area for the spirit world, much in the same way the Intihuatana could. _Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!_ But it was to no avail. He was going to enter the Circle; she could feel it. _What have I done to deserve this?_ she wondered hopelessly. She couldn't even come out of the trance fast enough to tell him to go away. _Damn it!_

And then it happened.

The harsh winds of the spirit world wracked the Circle as they pushed down from the heavens. Ginny felt the air become dense with the heavy smell of ancient magic. She coughed under the pressure in her lungs. The familiar purple glow of magic claimed the center Rowan, the Tree of Ether. Its magic expanded and drew on the other elements. Then the power skyrocketed, and the force hurled Ginny against a Rowan on the outer circle of trees. She couldn't even move under the force of the magic.

She saw him. Harry was suspended, appearing lifeless in the air, a purple glow trying to suppress a green one coming from his own body. Looking up with trouble, Ginny saw the silvery essence of Draco. It almost made her cry. The silvery spirit of her friend descended from the heavens and faced Harry. Then the purple aura claimed Draco's spirit, and Ginny saw him no more.

The first thing Ginny saw after that was the falling body of Harry. The winds died. The magic receded. The green glow of Harry throbbed mercilessly for a moment, then stopped as well. Ginny could make out a slight difference in appearance, the spirit of Draco not completely bonded with Harry's body. It was a shadow hovering over him, a silvery shadow of Draco.

The pressure of the magic in the air dead, Ginny stood, walking slowly to Harry and squatting next to him. Frowning, she cast a Body Stretcher Charm and carried him into the house, Moody giving her the slightest of nods as she stepped onto the porch.

* * *

His head ached, and his whole body throbbed. It was like a pulsating wound, blood pumping in every direction. Except it wasn't his blood pounding; it was his magic. It was like when he had felt a wand for the first time, the warming sense of rightness and power. He could feel it around him...and it was different. Actually, he felt different. And he felt he was being watched.

_She's in here, but she isn't the one watching you,_ a cool voice said in the back of his head.

_I'm going insane,_ Harry thought absently, willing himself to wake.

_I suppose some could argue that, _the voice continued. _But in this case, you are perfectly sane, one hundred percent competent, rational, and sound. Now let's dispense with the formalities. I'm Draco Malfoy, and I'll be your spirit partner for, oh, a little while. How do you do?_

_Barking mad, _Harry said to himself.

_Oh, must we go over this again? Maybe this will help. _

Bright lights flashed on in Harry's mind, and he felt as though he'd been drawn into a dream land. It was cool and pure, white clouds all around him; friendly mist shimmered, reflecting an unseen light. Looking down, Harry found himself somewhat tangible and wearing a loose pair of jeans and a Hogwarts Quidditch t-shirt.

"As I was saying," the voice continued. "Perfectly sane in this respect. Welcome to my humble...well, it's a humble something."

"Malfoy?!?" Harry said in disbelief, his voice raising an octave in surprise.

There before him stood Draco Malfoy in black slacks and black Oxford shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a few buttons undone. He stood straight and nodded his head to Harry. Harry rather wondered what he'd been leaning on. "In the flesh...so to speak," Malfoy said with a smirk. "Thought you'd got rid of me, eh, Potter? Heh, now you have to share a body with me! Hidy-ho, neighbor-o!"

Harry frantically searched for his wand; not finding it on his person, he took a defensive stance and stared down the still smirking Malfoy.

"We aren't substantial matter here, Potter," Malfoy said royally. "This is our mind's projection of ourselves. In other words, this is how I picture me in my mind and you picture you in your mind. Got it? I can see how this is hard to understand."

"If you know all the damnable answers, Malfoy," Harry said moodily, "why don't you tell me why you're here...wherever here is. And how you got here, if you don't mind."

"Not at all, Potter, old boy," Malfoy said casually, stalking around Harry in a circle. "I'm here because I haven't finished my job on Earth."

"Then why didn't you come back as a ghost?" Harry asked.

"I needed to _do_ things," Malfoy said with a roll of his eyes. "If I'm a ghost, I just walk through stuff. Can't pick anything up. Can't move anything around. Clear?"

Harry rolled his eyes right back at him. " Crystal."

"So whoever is in charge up there – some sort of powerful committee, I think – decided I had to go back to Earth and do my part. Had a whole bunch of old Slytherin witches and wizards rallying behind me, I did. Now I'm here, sharing your body."

"Why me? Why not Dumbledore? Why not _anyone_?"

"I don't know," Malfoy said nonchalantly. "Apparently you're someone important. That prophecy's going to make you famous – oh, wait; you already are!"

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry spat.

"Original," Malfoy said with a sneer.

"So what, now you get to invade my thoughts and take over my body at whim?" Harry asked, ignoring his comment.

"Not exactly. I do have complete access to your thoughts – that's until your puny Gryffindor brain figures out how to make a wall powerful enough to stop me. But access to your body is another thing. Only with your permission can I – how do you say – possess you?"

"So you have access to my memories?" Harry asked, knowing there was a hitch of worry in his voice.

"If I so choose," Malfoy said casually. "Though, what you could possibly think which would interest me I don't know."

Harry was silent for a while. Malfoy, who had stopped pacing and was standing with his arms crossed, appeared at a loss for words too. "So," Harry said awkwardly. "What now?"

"You mean what about Ginevra," Malfoy interpreted.

"I don't!" Harry said quickly. Malfoy tapped his head with a raised eyebrow. "Fine. Perhaps that is what I mean."

"Well, what about her?" Malfoy asked.

"Did you want to talk to her or something?"

Malfoy's face went blank, and he stared at Harry intently. "You'd let me...why?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "It's just right...isn't it?"

Malfoy's eyes became shadowed, and he frowned. "No. I'll just watch...for now. Still getting used to things and all," he said, a bit brisker. "No, I can wait a while. She's probably angry...and sad. Would you mind...would you mind telling me how she is? We don't exactly get the _Daily Prophet_ in the Elysian Fields."

Harry raised his eyebrow at the Elysian Fields bit but didn't comment. "Well, I guess. I suppose it was some time after you died that she was crucified. They hung her over the lake with the Dark Mark hovering over her. It was...it was bloody and repulsive. But somehow, I don't know how exactly, she was revived. They sent her to Moody to train. Her training is coming along well; she's still very sharp. The plan is going on schedule, or at least that is what Moody tells me."

"What's the plan?" Malfoy asked.

"Kill Voldemort, of course. Only Ginny knows the real plan. They don't give us paper pushers the outline."

Malfoy took in all this and nodded; then he looked at Harry. "We're in the same boat...that works on many levels, you know? Anyway, you and I, we've got to work together for this to succeed. I'm not really clear on what I'm going to do, or what you're going to do, but it's big, really big."

"So we've got to put the past behind us," Harry said, half in question, half statement.

Malfoy nodded. "Yep. Right in one."

After a brief and slightly uncomfortable moment of silence, Harry stuck out his hand and looked Malfoy in the eye. "Harry Potter," he said earnestly.

"Draco Malfoy," Malfoy said; Harry caught the subdued enthusiasm.

They kept their hands like that for a while, a bond of camaraderie binding them for a split moment. Then they dropped each other's hand and looked around awkwardly.

"So," Malfoy – no, Draco – said uneasily.

"So," Harry repeated.

"No," Draco answered.

"What?" Harry asked, a bit confused.

"You were wondering if I ever really loved Ginevra, and the answer is no."

"You didn't? But –"

"You always believe what the rumors say, Harry? I was protecting her from the other Slytherins. In return, I got the closest thing I ever had to a friend and a good, willing shag. There wasn't any love. She never loved me. I never loved her. We didn't know how. I was wrong, desperate, when I said I loved her as I was dying. She was the closest thing I had to love, and she knew it. Nothing in her voice that day could have convinced me otherwise. You didn't think we loved each other, did you?"

"I didn't know. She always –"

"It was all for her protection," Draco replied. "Nothing else."

"How do you know she didn't really love you then?" Harry asked stonily.

"She doesn't know how," Draco answered simply. "Being in Slytherin completely wiped it out of her. Unless somehow she learns, which is unlikely, she will never love. I won't either. I don't really like talking about it, to tell the truth."

"All right," Harry said in a retreating voice. "We don't have to."

"You should go back; you're being called back into consciousness, some elemental thing. I'd answer it if I were you," Draco informed him coldly.

"So that's what that tugging feeling is," Harry mused. The world of mist closed in around him, fading into black.

* * *

Then he was conscious. His whole body ached again, though it was getting better. His eyelids were heavy and tired, but he opened them anyway, only to close them immediately. Everything was blurry and fuzzy, but he could hear pretty well, and feel too.

There was a warm towel on his forehead, with some sort of tingling mixture in it waking him up. But there was a warm feeling in his hand as well. It was Ginny's. Ginny was letting him hold her hand. Not only that, but she was caressing his face gently, her fingers warm on his face. And there were no gloves.

And she was talking, talking very softly. "I'm so sorry, Harry. This never should have happened to you. I...I don't know what I was thinking. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. I made a promise to myself, and I don't want to break it. It's just, every time I'm near you, I feel weak. I feel like I need you, need to be part of you to survive. It scares me. And you scare me. You're so passionate and free with your emotions. You're different from most boys I've met. There's that instinct to be with you; it's overwhelming at times. That is why I avoid you; that's why I turn my back on you. I'm confused...by you...by me..."

She sighed, and an intense sadness and remorse swept over Harry when she stopped talking. Her voice was so soothing, like cool water on a hot day. She was pouring her heart out to him. He wasn't supposed to hear this...but who cared? He only wished he could talk back!

She removed the rag from his face, and he heard water falling drop by drop into a bowl; then the towel was put back on his head.

"I want to love, Harry," Ginny said finally, the peaceful effects of her voice taking hold again. "I said I wanted to, made the vow. But it's hard, so hard, and I feel so alone. There's an ache in my heart, but when you're here, it isn't as bad. Half of me says I should live with that shame, that pain. It says I deserve it for all the awful things I've done and said to you. But the other half says to run to you and just hold on, never stopping. It says I've had enough pain and suffering, I have enough scars, and I deserve to love. And all the time..."

She faded out again, and Harry heard a soft sound. It dawned on him; she was crying. A single tear fell on his chest, and he realized he must be shirtless. Ginny's hands never moved, though, and a few more drops landed on him. He'd give anything to see her now.

"All the time," she continued, barely a whisper. "There you are. The answer. I'm just too stubborn, or too scared, to see it."

Harry felt a hot breeze on his face and neck, and he knew she must be very close to him. Gentle warmth pressed down on his lips, and Harry tasted the sweet salt of her tears as she kissed him softly. "Come home, Harry," she said quietly, her fingers caressing his face and her hand tightening slightly around his. "Please come home to me."

Taking the cloth from his head, she pressed her lips to his damp forehead once and then twice. Then the feeling of warmth left Harry, and he understood Ginny must have left. Her fingers were no longer on his cheek; her hand was no longer in his. He heard the door close, and sleep took him.

* * *

Harry was awake officially now. He opened his eyes, and everything was clear. Or at least as clear as it could be in a dim room. He tried moving his arms and legs, but it was no use; they were still too heavy. Apparently the effects of a soul joining with yours were more taxing on the body than one would think.

Somehow, he got the energy to turn his head. That was when he confronted the most magnificent sight he'd ever seen. Ginny Weasley was sprawled across the desk next to him, papers under her and her fire-red hair flowing about her like a halo. Sure, there were circles under her eyes, and she was snoring lightly, but she was still beautiful. She was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

Harry shifted in his bed, trying to see her better. But she snorted softly in her light sleep and woke up. Licking her lips and stretching her arms above her head, she yawned. Then she jumped slightly, turning to look at him.

"Harry?" she whispered sleepily. "Oh, Merlin, you're awake."

She stood quickly and walked out of his seeing distance. But he could hear her. She was somewhere to the left of him, and a clinking sound let him know she was working. Soon she returned to his sight and placed a tray on the desk over her papers.

Harry tried to speak, but nothing came out. Ginny saw this and smiled slightly. "You'll be weak for a while. What you went through does that to a person. I was out for a week at least. But here you are, awake on the third day." She sighed. "We've got to get some fluid in you; don't want to dehydrate on us, do you? No. I don't think you'll be able to lift your head...or swallow much, really…but I want you to drink at least one glass before you sleep again, all right?

"Now," she continued, "I've put some healing potion in here, but it's tasteless; I thought you'd appreciate the pure taste of water." She poured a bit of clear liquid into his water and stirred it. Then she rose from the chair and moved to his bed, lifting him slightly and sitting behind him. His head rested in her lap, propped up so he could drink.

"That's not that bad, is it?" she asked quietly, taking the glass from the table. Harry tried to open his mouth, but nothing happened. Ginny smiled down on him while dipping her finger in the water, then pressing it on his lips and smoothing it around. It felt clean on his dry skin, and somewhat sensual.

"There's a donation from Fawkes in here. First class owl from Dumbledore. It'll heal you faster than anything Alastor has around." She tipped the glass to his lips, and he swallowed some of it painfully. It felt wonderful on his sticky mouth and throat. Ginny curled a bit of hair around her ear as she tipped the glass to him again. "You're lucky to have friends like Dumbledore, Harry, very lucky indeed."

He was halfway through the glass when his throat and mouth felt up to working. "Gin..." he said, his voice raspy.

"No," she said softly. "Don't try to talk yet. Maybe tomorrow."

She tilted the glass his way before he could reply. Harry looked up at her but couldn't read her expression at all. What he did understand was that somehow her fingers had tangled themselves in his hair and were massaging his scalp. Harry didn't hint that he noticed it, figuring she didn't even realize. Soon he finished the glass, and Ginny looked down on him silently for a while before resting his head on the pillow again.

His eyes followed her as she walked to the window on the other side of his bed. "A nice, healthy breeze will do you good." She undid the clasps and opened the window a bit. Harry felt a slightly cool draft enter the room. It mixed with her scent on his pillows and threatened to put him to sleep. He watched her sit in the window seat, crossing her legs and facing the moon. The wind picked up her hair and blew it back, giving her the look of a moon goddess.

_A moon goddess_, he mused to himself. _Cold and distant, but lonely. People feel grateful to have her smile down on them. People feel grateful to receive her love and attention. Maybe the moon isn't as cold as she's made out to be._

* * *

Harry was awake again. This time there was light coming through his window. It was calm and inviting sunlight, the type that called to Harry to go out and ride a broom. He was attempting to sit up when he heard the door open and close.

"Oh no, you don't," Ginny said, pushing him back down on the bed. Half memories of waking several times during the night and seeing Ginny watching the moon surfaced in his mind, and he lay back. "I'm going to see if you can eat something more tangible now, perhaps some broth. I'll be back."

A few minutes later she was carrying a tray with a bowl of steaming soup on it. She smiled and said, "How are you feeling this afternoon?"

Harry licked his lips. "I've been better," he managed to rasp.

"I can imagine," Ginny said almost cheerily. Propping him up like the night before, she dipped the spoon in the broth and blew it cool before bringing it to Harry's lips. Once again, he felt her fingers making their way absently to his head and entwining with his dark hair.

"It's a good thing you're such a fast healer," Ginny said warmly, spooning him another bite. "You need all the training you can get. Me too, for that matter. I...never mind."

"What?" he croaked between spoonfuls. She plopped another spoonful in his mouth before answering.

"I feel a bit responsible for this, Harry. And, if you must know, I'm suffering a guilty conscience from a number of things. I don't need another death on my already spotty record." She looked down on him, her brown eyes soft for once. "We can't lose you, Harry Potter. The world can't afford it."

"Can you?" he said, his voice becoming stronger.

Ginny remained still and unemotional. Then she looked away, putting the empty bowl on the desk next to her and standing up. She turned her back to him, and for a moment Harry thought she must be angry with him. She crossed her arms and rubbed them as though cold. Harry noticed she still wasn't wearing her gloves.

Ginny sighed raggedly. "No, Harry, I don't think I can. You need to get some sleep." She walked briskly to the door and closed it behind her.

_

* * *

_

_May 30, 1997_

_Dear Diary, _

_How do you stop something inside of you? Can you? I don't think I can. I used to think there was only darkness in me. I used to think all I could do was evil and hope the ends justified the means. My goal has been and always will be to destroy Tom. But now...but now...I'm lost more than anything now. _

_Merlin, how I was cold. I was so cold, so unforgiving, not even human. I had no conscience. I had no remorse. I had no fear. I had no heart. I was a broken shadow of a woman, a disgusting shadow; I see that now. But I kept going; I went so far, so long, I didn't even know where to end, or if there was an ending. Life was a dead and hollow shell, and only death awaited me, death and loneliness. It wasn't enough; it wasn't right; it wasn't living. _

_And now there is something inside of me, and I can't stop it. I don't know if I want to. A fire burns where before there was ice. A lion sleeps where before there was a snake. Things are being turned upside down and shaken about. My heart and mind can't fathom or keep up with it. My heart is so new, so young and weak. I fear it shall break if it's bended or prodded in any way. I fear the worst. _

_Harry and his mysterious powers over me are there. I don't know what binds me to him, what keeps me by his bed while he sleeps, what tangles my fingers in his thick, black hair, what makes me crave the electricity in his skin when I touch it. Could it be love? I don't know. What does love feel like? What does love taste like to the heart? What does it sound like to the soul? Does it feel like warm raindrops slowly drizzling from the sky in a spring shower? Does it taste like warm honey sliding down the back of your throat so slow and sweet? Does it sound like silence one minute and roar like the ocean waves breaking on cliffs the next? I don't know. I never have. But if this were it, if I were in love with Harry and this strange sensation were the ultimate emotion…? It feels like some foreign form of power to me. It still feels like power. I don't think this is a good thing. From what I've heard, love isn't supposed to be power; it's supposed to be the supreme happiness. _

_I want to...I don't know what I want. I'm being foolish, I think. Perhaps and perhaps not. I have to remember that Draco is there now. It's so easy to forget. He isn't part of my life anymore. He would understand that. If I put it in terms of power, he'd understand. _

_I was reading something of Alastor's the other day while Harry was sleeping. It was by e. e. cummings. No, there is no capitalization in his name; he didn't think it was important enough to capitalize. He liked experimenting with punctuation, too. I find it surprising that Alastor keeps Muggle poetry around. But Alastor is a surprising person. Anyway, this caught my eye immediately. I hadn't read much e. e. cummings. I'm ashamed to say I didn't understand it. There were so many...emotions. I didn't – couldn't – understand them. But it makes more sense now. _

since feeling is first

e. e. cummings

since feeling is first

who pays any attention

to the syntax of things

will never wholly kiss you;

wholly to be a fool

while Spring is in the world

my blood approves,

and kisses are a better fate

than wisdom

lady i swear by all flowers. Don't cry

– the best gesture of my brain is less than

your eyelids' flutter which says

we are for each other:then

laugh,leaning back in my arms

life's not a paragraph

And death i think is no parenthesis

_Bloody beautiful, that is all I have to say. It's just so...good. "and death i think is no parenthesis." Just say it; it even feels right on your tongue. So true, so romantic and passionate and real and meaningful and heartfelt. I want someone to love me like that. I want someone to want me like that, to look at me like that and hold me like that. _

_I would never find that with Draco. As much as it shames me to say it, I've grown away from him, from the idea of having him around. I don't need his shadow anymore, nor do I need his voice in my mind. I find more and more I don't want it either. _

* * *

Harry woke alone and very hungry. Looking around, he saw no Ginny and no food. Surprised he'd found the strength, he sat up fully without assistance and made his way, staggering like a drunken man, to the door. He was further amazed when Ginny's apparent sixth or maybe even seventh or eighth sense didn't alert her to his movement. She'd been keeping him in bed nearly all week, not letting him sit, much less walk. Not to say he wasn't grateful, oh no. He felt like heaven. Every measure of her life was dedicated to him, every fiber of her being focused on him. He loved it, reveled in it. To be the center of her life, her sun and moon, was to be a man among boys, an emperor of kings, a god of gods.

And yet she was gone. She wasn't there to tell him to lie back down, then feed him soup or give him water. Stumbling down the hall, he frowned. Where was she, if she wasn't with him?

_Give it a rest, would you? I don't want to hear about this for the rest of my vacation, _Draco complained in the back of his mind.

_Oh, so you come now to watch me fall down the stairs. Wouldn't it be funny if the invincible Harry Potter were to be defeated by a sixteen step staircase? Ha...ha...ha,_ Harry spat.

_Thoroughly._ _Now, one step in front of the other, that's the way._

Harry rolled his eyes and leaned heavily on the banister as he took the stairwell one step at a time. Once he reached the bottom, he was panting and sweating. It had taken more effort than he'd imagined. His stomach growled suspiciously loud, and he entered the kitchen to see Moody reading a newspaper and drinking something from his flask.

"Morning, Potter," he grumbled, not looking up. "Finding your sea legs all right?"

"Just fine," Harry replied. "Do we have something to eat here? I'm starving to death."

Moody looked over his paper at Harry with skeptical eyes. "Ginny won't like it that you're up. I'm going to get in trouble."

Harry looked at him for a moment then chuckled.

Moody let out a grunt of amusement and said, "Sit down, boy-o. I'll get you something that'll fill ya up."

"Where's Ginny?" Harry asked.

"Albus wanted to talk with her, so she's having tea with him. She's worried about you. Never seen her take so much interest in anything before. Feel lucky, boy-o; I think she likes you."

"I hope so," Harry said with a sigh.

_Yeah, fascinating, _Draco said impatiently. _What is Moody really like?_

Harry had to keep himself from breaking into laughter at Draco's experience with "Moody." _Getting turned into a ferret once not enough for you, Draco?_

To Harry's surprise, he could feel Draco's rage at the statement.

_He isn't as bad as people make him out to be,_ Harry said seriously. _He's fairly normal, really, and smart too. Sure, he checks all his food for poison, even if he makes it, but everyone has their quirks. If you see past the fake eye, scarred skin, and wooden leg, he's a pretty cool bloke. He got some magical healing after his experience in our fourth year and is practically as good as new._

_So he's pretty cool, eh? _

_Yeah, but strict. He was a Slytherin, you know. _

_Otherwise I wouldn't care_, Draco said simply. _I've always wondered what the early Slytherins were like, the ones before Voldemort insulted our House._

Harry snorted mentally.

_What? You think all Slytherins were always bad? I'll have you know many respected witches and wizards came out of that House. _

Moody set a huge plate of food in front of Harry before checking it for poison. Harry nodded his thanks and tucked in. _I didn't know,_ Harry said. _I didn't care. Nothing could ever make me want to be in that House._

Now_, sure,_ Draco argued. _But Moody is a _real_ Slytherin. The type of Slytherin people respected – not only feared but _respected.

_Fine,_ Harry conceded; then, as an afterthought, _I don't tell many people this, but, seeing as I'm basically the only person you can talk to, the Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin. Said I'd do great in that House._

It was Draco's turn to snort. _The Sorting Hat is on billywig stings. You belong in Gryffindor. Maybe if you were born one hundred years ago, you could have been in Slytherin, but you're a Gryffindor. You're the true blue hero type, the Boy Who Lived sort. Get what I'm saying?_

_I get it,_ Harry said. _But it makes you wonder._

_I don't know what it makes you do, but it makes me puke._

Harry shrugged mentally.

_Hey, _Draco said, changing the conversation, _there's Ginevra. I'm going to get some butter popcorn; this promises to be a show. I'm sure Moody can fix chewed off ears. She has a mean right hook, by the way. Good luck!_

Just as Draco said that, Ginny walked in the kitchen door and stopped dead in her tracks. Then she turned to Moody. "Alastor," she said with feigned pleasantness, "what is Harry doing out of bed? I thought I told you to keep an eye on him."

"'S not my fault. He got up by himself," Moody said casually, not even glancing from his paper. "Besides, I did keep an eye on him. He left the room. I'm too damn lazy to put him back up there, that's all."

Ginny cocked her hips and put a hand on one of them. Turning to Harry, she raised an eyebrow.

Harry licked his lips and shifted his eyes before looking her in the face. "Well, you weren't home, and I was rather hungry..." He trailed off.

"If you're feeling so good, why don't you go take a shower? You smell. And try to rest some more." She turned back around walked right out of the house.

Harry sighed and received a sympathetic look from Moody before heading upstairs to shower.

* * *

"We can't risk it, Alastor," Dumbledore said in a tired voice. Moody had never seen him more tired...ever.

"She needs to get out of the house, if only for a while," Moody argued. "And Potter too."

"No," Dumbledore replied. "I can't risk them, and I can't risk the people it would take to guard them. They can have a vacation when this all ends."

"If this all ends," Moody grunted.

"She was very convincing, though," Dumbledore mused.

"I expect she was." Moody chuckled. "I also expect she was very angry when you said no."

"Right in one," the headmaster replied. "She said I was an 'oppressive son of a bitch with no conscience and no morals.' She's very articulate, is she not?"

Moody nodded and leaned back in his seat. "And Arabella? Any news from her?"

"None," Dumbledore replied. "The Sudetenland is fairly secluded – no news in, no news out sort of place. I expect she'll find some way of communicating. I assume you've heard the same."

Moody nodded. "Not much. Vector contacted me the other day. She looked...upset."

Dumbledore smiled kindly. "Yes, she stormed into my private rooms about three in the morning demanding I explain 'those Merlin forsaken, bastard runes.' I had to lead her back to her rooms and forcibly pry each of her fingers from the notes. I'm sad to say she had some sort of mental break after that and needed to be sent to Mungo's. Ah well, I can always have Minerva teach Arithmancy, or I can myself."

"Undoubtedly," Moody replied, trying to maintain a straight face.

"Do you remember our mutual Potions Master, Professor Arcturus, Alastor?" Dumbledore questioned.

"I hated that bastard. Everyone hated that bastard. Not only that, he hated everyone. He especially didn't like you. Said there was 'something decidedly not right about a boy who could smile while serving detention,' if I remember correctly."

"And you took great pleasure in calling him the Great Hellion Blood-Sucking Bat," Dumbledore countered. "At any rate, his grandson, who lives in San Francisco, has a wife who just gave birth to a little girl."

"And?" Moody prompted.

"She has purple eyes," Dumbledore said. "Ring any bells?"

"The Messiah?"

"Indeed."

Moody sat straighter in his seat. "Ginny spoke of her, told me she'd be born soon. What does it mean, Albus?"

"Traditionally, the Messiah's birth signals an end and beginning," Dumbledore replied. "Just like the wizard Jesus Christ; surely you remember him, Alastor."

"He had purple eyes?"

"He wore a glamour for public. But moving on, I think this girl signals hope. Do you know what she was named? Capella. Capella Arcturus the Messiah."

"So it has begun," Moody said with a sigh. He looked at the clock; it was nearly two in the morning. He needed to get home sometime.

"Most decidedly," Dumbledore said, echoing his sigh. "Most decidedly."

* * *

"NOOO!!!!"

Harry woke from a fitful sleep with his scar burning maliciously. Wiping his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand, he painfully disengaged himself from his sheets.

_Voldemort held Ginny by the throat a few feet from the ground. She was fighting valiantly, kicking and doing her best to throw punches and grab for her wand at the same time. She was bloody and broken, her fiery red hair mixing with deep red blood oozing from an open head wound. _

Harry bolted from the bed, his scar burning as it never had before.

_Her legs were barely kicking now; she dropped her wand on the ground in surrender._

_Voldemort looked right at him and licked the blood from Ginny face, savoring it and smiling the whole time. "Come to me, Potter. Come save your love," the dark man said, red eyes glinting maniacally. _

Harry collapsed with his back against the wall, his palm pressed to his forehead, trying to stop the throbbing evil.

_Voldemort smoothed the hair away from Ginny's neck and smelled it briefly, taking a lick with his long, black tongue. Eyes on Harry, he sank his fanged teeth into Ginny's neck and ravaged it mercilessly. Mouth bathed in Ginny's blood, he taunted, "Come to me, Potter-boy! Come!" _

"No," Harry repeated softly. "No, just a dream. Just a dream. JUST A DREAM, VOLDEMORT! YOU CAN'T SCARE ME!" Ripping his shirt over his head, Harry staggered to the bathroom and drenched his face, neck, and chest in cool water, trying desperately to forget the images.

_Voldemort let Ginny drop to the floor. Her body lay limp on the ground, her face turned to him. It was deathly pale, the color of the moon in winter. Her brown eyes were glazed and her lips partially open. _

Harry closed his eyes, willing the images away. It had to be a trick; Moody wouldn't let this happen.

_Voldemort grinned at Harry and drew his wand, pointing it down at Ginny. His black tongue licked his lips. "_Cavcadious!_" he cried. A great quake hit the earth, and Ginny's chest opened, her ribs bending outward grotesquely. _

"No..." Harry whispered. "No more!"

_Voldemort reached into Ginny's chest cavity and ripped her heart cleanly from it. _

Harry couldn't take it anymore. Not even bothering to put on his glasses, he grabbed his wand and Apparated directly to Moody's house. Landing on the moonlit porch, he looked out at the lawn and saw she wasn't there. He frantically opened the door and jumped the stairs three at a time to Ginny's room. She had to be there; she just had to!

"Ginny!" he shouted outside the door as he pounded on it. "Ginny! Answer me, Gin!"

A confused, but still beautiful Ginny opened the door, and Harry caught his breath. She was alive. "Harry? What's wrong? What's happened?" she asked urgently when he didn't speak.

"You're alive," he practically sobbed. His scar still burning, he fell on his knees before her and grabbed her around the waist, burying his head in her stomach. "I thought he'd got you! It was just a dream...just a dream..."

It took Ginny a moment to respond to this, but she eventually put one hand on his head and smoothed his damp hair down. "I'm fine, Harry. Just fine. It's all alright, no worries."

Breathing in her scent, Harry pulled her closer; he could hear her heart beating under her ribs. "He killed you," Harry continued into her stomach. "And I just watched."

"Shh," Ginny said patiently. "I'm right here, with you."

She smoothed his black hair from his forehead, forcing him to look up at her. Her face was perfect and calm, inviting and warm. She wound her fingers in his hair then ran them over his scar. It felt like cool water – bliss, in other words. The memories were dying as he looked into her eyes. He was lost in them. They looked so big, so warm, so loving. He couldn't force himself to believe she didn't love him at some level; he just couldn't.

"Right here with you, Harry," she repeated in a soothing voice.

Her head and eyes followed his as he stood. He liked the way her eyes looked when they were staring up at him better. So full of trust and desire they startled him, but in a good way. Her eyes still on his, she licked her lips lightly, sending a chill down Harry's spine. Merlin, he wanted her. Seeing her gone only reminded him of that. Now she was here, alone with him...

She closed her eyes and opened them again slowly, the effect devastating on him as her eyes returned clouded over with lust and need...for him. After what seemed an eternity, he brought his lips down to hers and kissed her tentatively. Her lips welcomed his, her sweet scent filling his nose. But his blood really began pumping when he pulled back and her lips followed his as far as they could. Her eyes fluttered open to stare at him with unmasked passion, her breath hot on his lips, quick and shallow.

"Ginny..." he breathed.

"Don't stop," Ginny said in a whisper. "Please, Harry."

He wanted to say something to the effect of, "Don't worry, I can't," or, "Never," but his lips were busy doing something else. Kissing her a bit more forcefully, he brought her closer to him and felt her shiver deliciously in return.

Nipping his bottom lip, she pulled him down to her farther; then she brushed her cheek against his as her lips traveled to his ear. "Make love to me, Harry," she whispered.

* * *

Collapsing on her, Harry felt her sporadic breaths on his chest as she caught her breath. Her hands moved slowly around his neck, and she held on to him urgently. Her lips quivering against his ear, she whispered softly, "I love you, Harry Potter."

Harry kissed her with all the energy he had left, then put his forehead on hers. "I've been waiting a long time for that."

She closed her eyes and swallowed. "I'm sorry."

"I know," he replied. "I know."

He slipped out of her and drew the covers from the bottom of the bed. She threw her arms around his neck again and nestled her head under his chin. Harry could feel her heart beat against his chest.

All was right. For once, all was right.

* * *

Moody returned home and was surprised to see the porch door open. Frowning, he looked around the house. Upon seeing Ginny's open door, he peered in to find two figures lying in her bed, very much tangled together and very much asleep.

Shaking his head, he closed the door and turned off the lights with a wave of his wand. "You'd think they'd have enough sense to close the damn door. It was bound to happen sooner or later...glad it happened while I wasn't at home."


	17. Happenstance Sets the Stage

**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: Happenstance Sets the Stage**

"I'm fed up to the ears with old men dreaming up wars for young men to die in."

– George McGovern

* * *

Somehow, when everything is right in the world, sedated content will come over you. The pure, white mornings of hope and green ideas of love wash over the day like clear waters on pale beaches. Serenity clings to the air like a dream you can't quite remember, and all is good.

So it was for Ginny and Harry. The pale morning broke through Ginny's window and spread tranquility on the two sleeping lovers. Ginny woke, content and fresh. She had moved somehow in the night and was on her stomach, Harry's arm across her back. They faced each other, and Ginny couldn't help but stare.

He was so peaceful, so true, so right. Come to think of it, there was no place she'd rather be than right there in his arms, waiting for morning to turn to day. His bright, green eyes opened, and he stared quietly at her. She liked the way he stared at her; it made her feel needed, loved.

"Good morning," she said softly.

"Morning, Beautiful," he said back.

There was a moment of reverent silence while they looked at each other. Then Harry sat up partially, propping his head up with his hand. "I wondered what it would be like to wake up next to you."

"What is it like?" she asked.

Harry took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Letting it out and looking at her, he said, "Perfect."

"Perfect?"

"Perfect," he assured her. He wound a strand of her hair in his fingers and sighed again. "Everything about you is perfect, Ginny."

"Not everything," she replied sadly, waving a scarred hand in front of his face.

Harry grabbed it like it was the Snitch and held it gently, rubbing his thumb over each tip and then kissing her palm. "If anything, it makes you even more perfect."

Her face was emotionless for a moment, and then a small smile broke out on it. "I crack my knuckles," she confessed.

Harry frowned. "I hate that," he said with mock seriousness. Ginny let out a twinkle of a laugh and leaned further into her pillow as she exhaled.

"You have beauty marks on your back," Harry commented.

"Hmhmm," she confirmed.

Harry drew a line from one mark to the next, reveling in her smooth, creamy skin. "They're wonderful."

She giggled again. "I need a shower," she said into the pillow.

"What a coincidence. So do I."

* * *

"My Lord," the simpering, squat man said from his knees.

"What is it, Wormtail?" the Dark Lord Voldemort said from his high, stony seat.

"Master," Pettigrew whined, crawling to the hem of Voldemort's robes and kissing them repeatedly. After a sharp kick to the head, Pettigrew stopped and bowed his head to the ground respectfully. "Master, I do not mean to question you, Master, for I know you see all, but, Master, why do we not kill the Weasley girl? Surely we are safer if she is dead."

"Safer? Safer. Yes, she is safer dead. But she is still more useful alive. She thinks she can take both sides of the war and stay on top? She is smart, no doubt, but not as smart as she thinks she is."

"So we will kill her then?"

"Why would we kill her, Wormtail? Such a powerful, smart, and ambitious – not to mention beautiful – young woman belongs in the Death Eaters. She can be a great asset to us. And she will, whether she wants to be or not."

"But...but, Master..." Pettigrew wrung his hands.

Voldemort's eyes narrowed as he looked on his lackey. A manic smile broke onto his face. "Ah, I see. Jealousy is a powerful weapon and asset, the same one which brought you to me. I warn you from this one. Don't be swayed by her beautiful face; do not be swayed by the power she radiates. She is dangerous, a deadly nightshade among the thorns. While the thorns are obviously dangerous, her beauty lures the unwary and kills them, just as if they had been caught by the thorns. No, I would not cross her if I were you, Wormtail."

"Yes, Master," Pettigrew said pitifully.

* * *

Moody looked at the two across the table from him. They had come downstairs with each other; Ginny had made sure of that. Harry looked mildly embarrassed, though Ginny went on as if nothing was wrong at all. Moody glanced at Harry again; Potter made brief eye contact before looking down at his plate. Moody looked to Ginny, who frowned at him and went on eating.

"Alastor," she said, putting her napkin on the table and looking at him seriously, "I have reason to believe there is some sort of bond between Harry and Tom that Tom is manipulating for his purposes, whatever they may be. I think I can fix it, but I'll need time. Can Harry spare a day of training?"

Moody looked at the two suspiciously. He knew Ginny was responsible, and this wasn't an excuse to go snog her new boyfriend. But Harry...Harry was a different story. "I suppose," Moody conceded.

Ginny nodded and stood. "I need to consult the Rowans; I'll be back in an hour or so. Maybe you two can get in some extra training."

Ginny left the table and wandered off into the small grove, leaving a none-too-generous Moody and an all-but-thoroughly-embarrassed Harry. Concentrating on the boy with both of his eyes, Moody divined what he wanted to say to Harry. "What are you doing here, Potter?" he said, finally deciding on a threatening line.

"Sir, I –"

"I don't want to hear it. All I want to do is warn you. You think Voldemort is vengeful? You know nothing of revenge until you're being hunted by me in the wee hours of the morning and are bloody and broken, on your last breaths, and all you're wishing is that you'd never touched Ginny. Because I'm warning you, Potter, you sway her from her path, you upset her in anyway, you do something so incurably stupid like get her pregnant – I'll hunt you down and kill you myself, damnation to the prophecy."

The threat had the desired effect. Harry swallowed hard and nodded shakily.

"Good," Moody continued on a much lighter note. "Now let's get an hour of sparring in before Sprite gets back."

And they did, at great length. Harry was glad when it was over; Moody was threatening to pound him within an inch of his life. He had to give Moody credit; what Mad-Eye lacked in stature, he more than made up for in strength and agility. Wiping his forehead with his arm, Harry followed Ginny as she walked out onto the moors.

"Where are we going, Ginny?" Harry asked after he'd got his breath back.

She shrugged and kept walking. Harry sighed and continued following her. So she was going to be all weird and mysterious about it. Fine.

_She doesn't know,_ Draco said in his mind.

_What do you mean she doesn't know?_ Harry returned. _She's leading us._

_Just what I said; she doesn't know. Ginevra has...connections..._

_With?_

_Places,_ Draco said vaguely.

_Right, perfectly clear._ Harry rolled his eyes.

_Fine._ _I'll explain it to you then. Ginevra died. She's still very close to the elements, as she was when she was in heaven. She retained something ethereal; it ties her to all forces of the earth, gives her a strange power. What it will be used for is a mystery, but many assume it will be used to help you._

_How do _you _know this? _Harry asked skeptically.

_I'm dead, too, Harry._

_Right,_ Harry said curtly. _Sorry about that._

_Well, there was nothing you could have done._ _Besides, what's done is done. It's hard to be discontent in heaven, Harry._

* * *

"Harry," Ginny said suddenly, stopping in front of a huge oak. "Here."

Harry nodded and leaned against the tree, sliding down the trunk to the ground. Ginny smiled and sat between his legs, leaning back into his chest and grabbing one of his hands. "What did you think when you got up this morning?" he asked quietly.

Ginny was silent for a while, then turned her face to nuzzle Harry's neck. "I thought I was in heaven again."

"What was it like, Ginny?" Harry asked carefully, putting his other hand on her stomach.

Ginny sighed and leaned deeper into him. "Good. Everything was clear, clean, and good. No one hurt; no on was in pain."

"Were you happy?"

"Yes."

"And now, are you happy?"

"Very much so, Harry. Why are you asking this?" she asked him, a sad tint in her voice.

He shrugged.

"I can show you what heaven is like, if you want."

"I would like that," Harry said honestly.

Ginny sighed deeply. "Close your eyes, Harry," she commanded. "Relax and close your eyes." Harry felt Ginny's body loosening on his, and he tried to mimic her.

"Good," she said softly. "Now breathe with me; match your heart with mine." She caught the hand on her stomach and laid it over her heart. Harry felt her slowing beat, a magical rhythm. "Breathe with me, Harry. Close your eyes and breathe. Look at the light; can you see it?"

Harry nodded, because he _could _see the light and it was beautiful. It was enchanting and obviously good. Someone gripped his hand; he looked beside him and saw it was Ginny. She wore a simple, white Roman robe, but it made her look like a goddess. She smiled up at him and began walking. Walking into the light, he felt a fuzzy, slightly cool sensation run up his body. The light intensified as he got closer to the source. Then, all of a sudden, it flashed brightly, and Harry was on Earth, sitting next to Ginny, his hand on her heart.

"Wow," he said after a while. When he had seen inside that light...it had been heaven. There were no words he had which could describe the phenomenon. One minute he was looking into the light; the next he was the light, and all was good. "It was...amazing."

Ginny nodded mutely.

"And you were torn away from that," Harry said softly. "I'm sorry."

She shrugged. "It doesn't matter anymore. I can't go back."

"But –"

"No, Harry. Really, I'd rather have known it and lost it than never have known it at all."

"But –"

"We have work to do. This will be hard during the day; we'll have to do it at night."

"So why did you ask Moody to give me the day off then?" Harry asked, slightly confused.

"I'll admit; I had some ulterior motives," Ginny said slyly. "I need to have a conversation with a certain person you happen to be sharing a soul with."

"You know about that?" Harry asked in disbelief.

"Of course. I saw it. How do you think I knew how to help you recover?"

"I don't know," Harry said lamely. "Fine. I'll tell him. He'll possess my body or something."

Ginny squeezed his hand. "Thank you, Harry."

_Draco,_ Harry called out cautiously. He felt stupid.

_And rightly so, _Draco said back. _So Ginevra wants to talk. Okay. Prepare to be possessed by Draco Malfoy! All aboard, let's go!_

Harry stiffened and felt his soul turn to lead. It was like swirling down a drain and hitting rock bottom, no feather down mattress to catch him. It was dark and cold. He wondered if this was where Draco went.

"Ginevra."

It was strange hearing that name on Harry's lips. Strange hearing Harry's voice with Draco's speech pattern. She was facing Harry...well, Draco, not really wanting to touch something every inch of her body called an abomination of the universe.

"Draco," she replied, trying to sound level.

"Well, you asked me, Ginevra," Draco said.

Ginny licked her lips and folded her hands in her lap. "Draco, I love Harry."

Harry's face did a very Draco thing. It smirked. Crossing his legs in front of him, Draco leaned back into the trunk of the oak. "Good. I always knew you could do it, Ginevra."

"What do you mean?" Ginny asked, suddenly very cautious.

"I've learned a lot of things, Ginevra," Draco said, blowing a bit of dark hair out of his face. "One of which is I did horrible things to you. Slytherin did horrible things to you. You weren't supposed to be like this, not at all. You were supposed to be a Gryffindor."

"But the Hat –"

"– was fooled by Reonet. Yes, I met her, too. She needed you to be in that house. Oddly enough, it saved your life a few times, though you don't realize it. Also, it's odd that you turned out to be such a fantastic Slytherin. I mean, had you lived a hundred years ago or so." Harry plucked a small flower from the base of the tree and played with it as he spoke. "I didn't deserve you. I didn't deserve your loyalty. I couldn't love you, not the way Harry does."

"I couldn't love you," Ginny said thoughtfully. "It was all a charade, wasn't it, Draco?"

"A very good one. I don't regret it. Do you?"

Ginny was quiet for a while. "No. No, I don't. I can't regret it. It's part of me, Draco. How do you regret something that is part of you?"

"That's my girl," Draco said fondly. "I knew you'd see it my way."

"I have another question, actually."

"I know. The answer is: I have no idea what I'm doing here. In heaven, they say, 'jump;' you say, 'how high?' You're not missing much on the ethereal home front. I suppose I have some purpose in infiltrating the Death Eaters or some information that might be useful. But until December, I'm a useless sack of soul, hanging out in the Boy Wonder's body."

Ginny snorted. "Heaven's communication skills need to be worked on."

Draco raised his eyebrows and yawned. "I forgot what it is like to be tired. I better go; Harry's getting nervous in here."

"Draco?"

"Hm?" he replied with another yawn.

"I'm learning...how to love. Maybe one day I'll love you, too."

"Ginevra," Draco said, almost plaintively.

Ginny smiled. "Goodbye, Draco!" She could tell Draco hesitated before leaving. She sighed and looked up at the sky. _A few hours till night,_ she thought. _A nap would be nice._

"Ginny?" Harry's voice said, disrupting her thoughts. "Ginny?"

"I'm here, Harry," she said after a moment. She crawled over to him and snuggled into his lap, putting her head under his chin. _This feels right,_ Ginny thought thickly, sleep coming over her body. _Very right._

_

* * *

_

_September 3, 1997_

_Dear Diary,_

_It's hard to believe I should be at school right now, fulfilling my Head Girl duties. Things could be normal. I could be sitting at my vanity, and Draco could be lounging on my bed. I could be taking Advanced Potions and Advanced Charms. I could be wreaking havoc on Hogwarts grounds with moral shattering essays or paintings. I could be playing Gryffindor in Quidditch (and winning, thanks to the absence of Harry Potter – last year and all). I could be sneaking about with sly looks on my face, fraternizing with anyone I could._

_But I'm not. I'm here, at Moody's, learning far more valuable things than I ever learned at Hogwarts. I'm here, producing Arithromatic equations and doing groundbreaking work in Transubstantial Transfiguration. I'm not bored; I'm not even getting tired of it. Producing equations has become a daily part of life now. I would actually consider doing this for the rest of my life...if I have a rest of my life, that is._

_Upon closer inspection, I would rather live the rest of my life with Harry. I want to give him a son, I've decided. Or a daughter. Both even. A few of each even. It would make him very happy._

_Funny how time changes things. A very wise man told me something: "Time heals a lot of things." While time can't ever heal a broken heart – or at least I don't think – time can heal what has happened to me. You see, I never had my heart broken; I never had a heart to break._

_Hmm...Dumbledore said that..._

_Anyway, I've come to the conclusion that I am very different now. Very different indeed. There is still something inside of me, something terrifying, but when Harry is there, it goes away. Well, it's quieter at any rate. I need to study it, decide what it is and how it works. Only then can I feel safe. Only with Harry do I feel completely safe now._

_Moody is supportive. In fact, his direct words were, "I'm never walking in that room again, you little bastards. Put a Silencing Charm on that damnable room because if I hear you fucking like rabbits at night, I'll wring your little necks, prophecy or not."_

_Gallantly put, if I do say so myself._

_Harry and I do sleep in the same room, bed, whatever. I sleep now, too. I sleep more than I should probably. But I don't need to feel the universe to calm myself anymore; I have Harry._

_I have Harry._

_Funny I'd be saying that. Funny I'd be saying I want to give him children. Funny that I'd want to. After all the things I said to him (which I apologized many, many times for – actually it was fun), he still loved me. That's why it was him. I mean, that and the prophecy._

_Ah, the prophecy. It's getting closer, so much closer. If I didn't have Harry, I'd surely go insane. Sometimes it gets so loud..._

_I suppose I should go find Harry now...probably wondering what I'm doing...gods, I love that man..._

* * *

Ginny Weasley couldn't sleep. No matter what she did, sleep refused to take her. Counting sheep didn't help. Making love to Harry, while tiring, wasn't doing its normal job. Adding the fact that there was a pounding in her head which threatened to split her open, sleep wasn't an option at this time.

"Where are you going?" Harry asked sleepily as she lifted his arm off her stomach and moved to the side of the bed.

"Nowhere; go back to sleep," she said before kissing him on the forehead. He smiled and turned over.

Frowning, Ginny made her way downstairs, slipping on a light coat so she could walk comfortably around outside. It was going to be a long night. Looking into the moon, she sighed and stepped off the porch. The night air seemed a bit chillier than normal lately; fall was coming. A cool breeze whipped past her, and she felt something in the trees beyond.

Ginny's frown deepened as she neared the grove by Moody's house. _The Circle,_ she thought. She picked up the pace, ignoring the chill of damp grass on her bare feet. Something wasn't right; she knew. The shine on the Rowans wasn't bright enough to see, especially when there was a full moon.

She stopped at the edge of the forest and reached out through the universe. _Old._ _Power. Worry. Ancient. Power. Anxiety. Hope. Need. Power. Lost. Hope._ The universe was sending messages to her in its own, ethereal way. Ginny paused before entering the grove; she could be in trouble...

Cold steel bit at her throat, and she was pinned quickly against a large Rowan. She couldn't move; some magic held her under the blade.

"A girl in the Holy Circle of Rowans? Tsk, tsk, child, you shouldn't be here," a smooth voice taunted slowly into her ear.

Ginny struggled as best she could, but something was subduing her power.

"Odell," another voice hissed. "Let her down."

"No," the first voice, Odell, said. "I want to know who she is. Speak, girl, before I relieve you of that capability."

Ginny sneered. No one treated her like this. "Show yourself, or are you too scared, bastard?"

The man snorted. "Scared. Hardly. I doubt you even deserve to look upon me."

"Try me," Ginny gritted out through clenched teeth. If she had her wand...

A moment passed, and whoever or whatever was holding her stepped into the light, out of the Rowan's great, dark shadow. _An elf?_ Ginny thought to herself in disbelief. It was, though, an elf. Tall and elegant, the elf-man moved out of the shadow to reveal piercing, blue eyes and flaxen, almost platinum hair. He had a disdainful look on his face, as though there was some horrid smell in his nose.

"Let me down, elf," Ginny commanded. "Alastor will not be happy about this. Neither will Harry."

"I think she may be the one, Odell," the second elf said. He, too, stepped into the light, exposing similar blonde hair and blue eyes. This one was a bit taller and slighter of frame. A bow was strapped across his chest, and there was a royal air about him, same as the first. "Just look at her."

"I am, _brother,_" Odell said. "And all I _see _is a _human _I want to _kill_.º She shouldn't be intruding on this sacred land. This is elf land; she has no place."

"Those who worship the Old Ways are always welcome here," a feminine voice said. The most beautiful woman Ginny had ever seen came out of the shadows. Ginny wondered how many damn elves there were. She gracefully floated beside Odell, laying her long fingers lightly on his knife hand. She smiled briefly at Ginny.

_Welcome, Virgin From Light,_ a voice said into Ginny's head. Ginny frowned, but stayed silent.

"Come, brother," the woman said smoothly, "you know it to be true. Lower the sword before her guardian comes."

"Too late," a deep voice growled from the edge of the trees.

_Harry!_ Ginny rejoiced. Standing strong and outlined with a faint green aura, Harry looked like a god, walking the earth and saving helpless damsels. _Not such a helpless damsel, are you, Gin? Oh well. Harry, come and get me, so I can finish him off!_

Ginny marveled at Harry's broad chest muscles as he contracted his hands, gripping tighter on his long, silvery blade. He was preparing for an attack. "Let her go, elf," he warned.

Odell smirked, his blade moving farther up Ginny's neck. "The Green Knight, I presume," he said in his slow, regal voice.

"Odell, stop this," the woman warned.

"Be quiet, Cetia!" Odell snarled.

"It's all right, Cetia," the other male elf said. "Let him get himself killed. The clan will be better without his hot-head antics."

Ginny struggled once again at her bonds and looked pleadingly at Harry. "Harry –"

"Don't speak, girl," Odell said, pressing the cold blade closer into her skin. Ginny raised her head away from it.

"I'll give you one last chance, elf," Harry warned. "Let her go. I don't wish to fight an ally in this war, but if you don't let go of Ginny right now, I'll slit you from navel to noseº. Now, kindly or unkindly, let Ginny go."

Odell snorted. "Boy, you don't know what you're talking about." With his free hand, Odell drew a long sword and laughed. "Come and get me, boy."

Harry frowned. Ginny could tell this wasn't a battle he wanted to fight. Drawing his sword up like a lance, Harry charged Odell, swift as lightening, thanks to his lightning-fast Quidditch reflexes. Ginny watched as a smile crept over Odell's face. He raised his sword and blocked Harry's blow. Their swords screeched together, and Ginny grimaced. But Harry's two arms were stronger than Odell's one, and Odell was forced to sweep his sword to the side to deflect Harry's blade.

Letting go of Ginny, Odell moved away from the tree, and he and Harry began to circle each other. Harry, eyes flashing dangerously, made the first move. He swept gracefully into an attack formation and ground his blade against Odell's. Ginny took a moment to admire Harry's bare chest as it reflected the moonlight before struggling against her bonds again.

"Here," the woman elf, Cetia, said. "Let me help you with that."

Murmuring some unheard words, Cetia released Ginny from the spell, and Ginny tumbled to the ground. Or would have, at least, had a pair of strong arms not caught her. Looking up, Ginny saw it was the taller elf man, Odell's brother.

"I'm Cephiet," he said. "I apologize for our younger brother; he is...a bit out of control right now."

Frowning at the two men fighting, Ginny nodded. "Is he going to kill Harry?"

A small laugh escaped Cetia's lips. "I am sorry," she said. "That wasn't very sensitive. No, he won't kill him. I don't even believe Odell will win. Look for yourself."

Ginny did. Harry had Odell on the run, backing him up step by step. Odell backed into a tree but nimbly shot out of the way of Harry's blow. Stopping a hair from the magnificent Rowan, Harry's blade followed the elf, and Odell barely had the time to block the mighty swing. That was when Ginny noticed there were other people – well, elves – in the woods. All appeared to be watching the fight with mild, disengaged interest. Most had flaxen hair, as Odell, Cephiet, and Cetia did. Most had bows, like Cephiet, and some had theirs in ready position.

"Do you yield?" Harry shouted as Odell was flung to the ground under the weight of Harry's sword.

"Yield! Never!" A bluish shield formed around Odell's body then shot away from him, in arrow form, right at Harry. Ginny gasped, but it was in vain as a similar barrier of green formed around Harry.

"Yield!" Harry commanded. When Odell shook his head, a great burst of power pushed off Harry's being and headed straight at Odell. It broke his blue shield easily and flung him into the trunk of a Rowan a good six meters away.

Hefting his sword onto his shoulder and looking at Ginny through his thick, dark hair, Harry called out to the elves. "Anyone else want to tell me I can't have Ginny back?" When no one spoke, Harry snorted and said, "Come on, Ginny; let's go."

Ginny looked up at Cetia, who nodded. She dashed over to Harry and wrapped her arms around his sweaty chest. She thought he smelled wonderful. She kissed him on the cheek and smiled at he put an arm around her waist and led her out of the forest.

Suddenly, Harry froze and groaned, putting one hand on his stomach. His sword fell from his shoulder and landed with a clang on the ground. As if in slow motion, Ginny watched as Harry fell to his knees and his eyes rolled into the back of his head.

"Harry!" Immediately she caught him, but he was too heavy for her, and she fell to her knees as well. Pulling Harry onto her lap, she felt tears sting in his eyes. She couldn't see any wounds, not any blood. What was wrong with him? Ginny turned sharply to the elves, many of whom had begun to file out of the trees, observing the scene with lazy eyes. "What did you do to him?" she asked, her voice dangerously low.

"We've done nothing, Virgin From Light," Cephiet said calmly. "In fact, I'd be surprised if this _didn't _happen. The magic he used to defeat Odell was old and strong; not many mortal men can wield it."

Ginny raised her chin. "What are you doing here?"

Cephiet smiled lightly at her, not answering. Ginny could tell it was deliberate. "Ulophet, Niphrodel, take the Potter boy. Come with us, Virgin From Light."

Two able looking elf men picked Harry up from Ginny's lap, allowing her to stand. Ginny looked carefully at the elves. Reaching into the universe, she felt their sincerity. They wouldn't harm her. She nodded and pulled her robe around her before following the tall elf, Cephiet.

"So," Cephiet concluded, "Aberforth the Wizard told us this, and we came to our friend, Alastor Day Star. We knew we could help, even though we are a small number. We do need to find Alastor Day Star; where is he?"

Casting her gaze to the stars, Ginny reached out to them. They told her the elves spoke the truth, but they were hiding something. She opened her eyes and looked at Harry. He wasn't conscious, but a warm cloak covered him, and he was near the fire.

"I don't know exactly. He left Harry here to protect me when he went out of the country. He couldn't tell me where he was going," Ginny replied honestly. "Have you considered going to Hogwarts to find Albus Dumbledore? He is, after all, Aberforth's brother."

There was a slight pause before Cephiet replied. "We do not wish to speak to him...I –"

"Oh, tell her the truth, Cephiet," Cetia commanded. Ginny had long deduced they were twins and Cetia, while she hid in the background and let her brother make most of the decisions, was the dominant twin.

Cephiet fixed his sister with a penetrating gaze. She returned it with a roll of her sea blue eyes and a toss of her head. Cephiet sighed and turned again to Ginny. "The elves of my clan cannot approach Albus Shadowmaker. He has...he has a power we don't like or, rather, can't be in the presence of. We are weak to him and would surely do his bidding were he to ask it of us. He knows this and respects it, carrying his messages through Alastor Day Star."

"Dumbledore has that power over everyone. It isn't just you."

Cephiet looked to Cetia for support. Cetia sighed and said, "It isn't exactly like that. Albus Shadowmaker is a special type of wizard, a Shadowmaker. He would not have anyone know this, for it would mean his expulsion from Hogwarts and the end of his influence over the Ministry. He needs this influence to make sure people are aware of Voldemort Morning Star."

"Excuse me, but what is a Shadowmaker?"

"My child," Cetia said in disbelief, "the Shadowmakers were the race of wizards which caused the Dark Age of Magic. Surely they taught you of this in school?"

Ginny shook her head. "No. I mean, we know of the Dark Age of Magic, but not the Shadowmakers. But Dumbledore...he can't be a Shadowmaker. They must all be dead."

Cephiet snorted and poked a stick into the fire. "Dead?" he spat. "Dead? The Shadowmakers never die. Their souls find new bodies to inhabit. A Shadowmaker can only truly be killed by another Shadowmaker; then they absorb the dead Shadowmaker's magic and power. At the beginning of the twentieth century, three of twelve Shadowmakers existed: Albus Dumbledore, Grindelwald – the one who would become Voldemort – and a nameless killed by Voldemort in his younger years."

"You must be mistaken," Ginny said, shaking her head. "These Shadowmakers sound evil; Dumbledore isn't. He's a bloody Gryffindor, for Merlin's sake."

"Gryffindor was another Shadowmaker," Cetia said. "There are good Shadowmakers, just as there are good wizards. They are very rare, very, very rare, but they tend to be more powerful than evil Shadowmakers."

"But they are all powerful enough to enslave elves, whole races and clans of elves with a single word," Cephiet added. Ginny saw several elves nod their heads.

After a moment, Ginny looked into Cephiet's eyes. "What should I do? Do you want me to talk to Dumbledore?"

Cephiet and Cetia exchanged a look. Ginny was pretty sure the elves were telepathic. She took a moment to glace at the sleeping Harry before Cephiet spoke. "You would do this for us, Virgin From Light?"

Ginny nodded. "What should I tell him?"

"I'm coming," a familiar voice said. Odell walked out of the shadows, his sword in hilt.

"Odell!" Cetia scolded. "You shame yourself! Go back with the clan!"

"No!" Odell said forcefully. "I will protect her...her guard is hurt."

Ginny frowned at him. "I neither want nor need a protector."

"Yes –"

"Odell!" Cephiet shouted.

"I can do this! You'll send Antaries in my stead! I'm a better swordsman and bowman a thousand fold, and you know it!"

At this point, their argument went telepathic, and Ginny could only read facial expressions. All three family members seemed angry. The rest of the elves watched them with mild curiosity. To tell the truth, Ginny was intrigued by the three; they were the first elves she'd ever met who weren't terribly insipid and dull.

"Fine!" Cetia practically screeched. "Fine! Let him go! I hope Albus Shadowmaker takes him from us permanently."

Cephiet sighed heavily. "Virgin From Light, do you accept Odell Enorian as your protector and journeyman?"

Ginny looked at the steely face of Odell and frowned. She didn't like his temper and his predisposition to violence. But what could she do? They were going to make her take someone. Harry was unconscious; otherwise, he would come. Taking one last look at Harry, she said, "What message should we give Dumbledore?"

Ginny swore she saw a smile cross Odell's face...but then it could have been a shadow. Cephiet looked at Cetia, and she nodded. "You," he said, "will tell Albus Shadowmaker this: the elves are massing in the South. The Black Woods of Germany are teeming with eager wood-elves. The Alps are full with mountain-elves happy to take up arms against Voldemort Morning Star. On the wide fields of France, the plain-elves rally in his support. Even the white-elves are willing to give assistance. He need only give the word, and we will be at his side. Not only elves rush to his side. The centaurs in Greece send one hundred of their number to his cause.

"Also, there are Death Eaters in his company. The Astronomy teacher who returned to him is an adherent of the Morning Star. Whispers of attacks upon the peaks of the Andes are numerous and loud in the South. Tell him this, Virgin From Light. Harry Potter should be fully healed by your return to us."

Ginny nodded quickly. "I will tell him this, Cephiet, and return. Hopefully Alastor will return soon, so you can speak to him." She knelt by Harry and smoothed the hair away from his face, kissing his forehead before she straightened. A wind sang through the trees, and Ginny sighed. Was her work never done?

"I need to change into something different," she said briskly as she walked by Odell.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Odell roll his and follow after her over the meadow. She ignored him and took the steps to her room two at a time. Ginny pulled on a black shirt and trousers; then she put on her gloves and boots, grabbing her cloak before rushing out of the room. She found Odell looking interestedly at Moody's house, his furniture and pictures. Ginny remembered the elves still lived in the elements, refusing to modernize like the rest of the world.

"Demetrios and Orion," she said from behind, earning a flinch out of him. He turned around, and she grinned evilly. She knew he felt out of place in a house. Then she walked to the kitchen to get a drink.

"I know who they are," Odell said. "Everyone knows who they are."

Ginny filled a flask with water and put it at her side. "They were my teachers," she told him.

His eyes widened. "You were trained by Demetrios and Orion Bellatrix?" Ginny nodded. Odell's jaw worked up and down a couple of times before he shut it.

Ginny raised her eyebrows at him. "Ready?" she asked. "Do you Apparate?"

He nodded.

"Good." Ginny closed her eyes and let the magic work.

Almost immediately she felt a disturbing push as she appeared on solid ground, the castle and gates nowhere in sight. She frowned and saw Odell frown too as he appeared next to her.

"Dumbledore must have moved the Apparation Shield back for safety purposes," Ginny suggested.

Odell frowned deeper. "We'll have to cut through the Forbidden Forest then."

Ginny nodded, pulling her cloak around her tightly.

* * *

"Odell?" Ginny asked. "You know where we're going, right?"

They had been walking for hours now, and it was light out...well, sort of light; the forest was naturally dark. It was still creepy though, being in the forest at all. The trees all seemed wild and ravenous for sunlight, all fighting to be the tallest and the broadest. Every once in a while, Ginny would hear an animal cry out, and she'd look around her in vain. Odell would snort but stay silent. He wasn't a very talkative journey companion. In fact, a snort was about the most she'd got from him since leaving the house.

"Yes," he said in a wavering voice.

Ginny stopped dead. "You mean to tell me you _don't know _where we're going? What sort of elf are you!?!"

"Sea-elf," Odell answered with a straight face.

Ginny buried her head in her hands and sat on a nearby rock. "We're lost. The centaurs won't come for us. We're going to die out here."

"How do you know the centaurs won't come?" Odell asked.

"Lord Saiph prophesied it; that is how I know," Ginny spat. Then she sighed. "Okay. The woods are south of the school, right? All we have to do is go north, and we're bound to reach the end of the Forbidden Forest. We can follow it to Hogwarts." Ginny brought out her wand and said, "_Point Me!_"

The tip of her wand swerved to her right, and she put it back in her pocket. "Weren't even headed north," she grumbled under her breath.

She heard Odell's light step behind her, and she looked over her shoulder. "So tell me about yourself, Odell. Are you rude to everyone or just figureheads in major prophecies?"

He ignored her.

_Three hours later..._

"Who was your best friend growing up? Did you go to school? Orion and Demitrios never said anything about an elfin school. What about your parents? What were they like? Are they alive? Your sister and brother, they are close. Do you ever feel left out? Are you the youngest? Do you have any other siblings? I have six older brothers; all of them are prats. Especially George and Fred – they're twins and very mischievous. Were you mischievous as a child? How old _are_ you?"

" Oman Rah! I can't take it any more! Shut up!" Odell finally shouted. A few birds flew out of the trees and squawked in irritation. "Can't you ever be quiet?"

Ginny sighed and allowed a small smile of victory to cross her face. "I had to amuse myself somehow; you weren't complying."

"Well, just shut up! I wish I had killed you, annoying girl!"

"I have a name, you know. It's Ginny Weasley."

"I don't care!" Odell said angrily. "Just be..."

"Oh," Ginny said, seeing what he was staring at. It was Hogwarts; they were out of the woods. "Do you want to stay here, or come with me to meet Dumbledore?"

"I'm coming." He treaded on without her. Ginny frowned and followed him.

She had barely taken seven steps when a familiar voice drawled across the yard. "Ginevra Weasley."

Ginny stopped dead. "Odell," she said, getting the elf's attention. Immediately he drew his sword and was at her side.

"Speak, boy," Odell said, pushing the tip of his sword into the neck of the man.

"Ginevra, fallen in with the elves?" he said dryly. "How...interesting."

"Julius Flint," Ginny said finally.

"Quite. What are you doing here?" Flint asked, pushing the blade of the sword away from his neck with the tip of his finger. "Nice sword. Unfortunately I've been threatened with worse."

Ginny sized up Flint. He'd grown a bit since she'd last seen him. His shoulders were broader. He looked more like his brother, without the teeth. Flint's dark eyes glinted maliciously as he approached Ginny.

"Beautiful as ever, I see," Flint said casually. "A consort of yours, whore?"

* * *

"Arrogant as ever, I see," Ginny returned in a tone that matched his. "And no. I've got other people to play with. Where are you off to, Flint? If I remember correctly, this is class hours. Off to rape some Hufflepuff third year, perhaps? You like their small hands all over you, don't you?"

"You –"

But he didn't get to finish his sentence; Odell's sword was far too close to his airway for that. The elf had the broad side of his sword pressed most uncomfortably at Flint's neck and his hands trapped behind his back.

"Watch out, boy. No one touches her while I'm on duty," Odell ground out. Ginny had to give it to him; Odell knew how to scare a man shitless. He struck the blunt side of his sword on Flint's head, and the Slytherin promptly passed out. Odell snorted and put his sword back in its sheath. "Thought you were supposed to be a virgin."

"Virgin _FROM_ Light, not _OF _Light," Ginny mumbled under her breath as she led the way up the stairs of the castle. It was so familiar, so right; she couldn't wait to pass by the library. _Focus,_ she reminded herself. _You have a mission._

Glancing at Odell, Ginny was happy to see he was thoroughly enamored with the moving paintings and stairwells, captivated by the new sights and sounds. She had to guess he'd never left a ship or a port town, and those probably weren't technologically inclined.

Soon they were at the stone statue of the gargoyle, and Ginny was just about to start guessing passwords when the passageway opened to reveal a very worried Albus Dumbledore.

"Come in, come in," Dumbledore said, ushering them inside his office. Ginny saw that Odell was in awe of the kindly old man. "Do sit; would either of you like a lemon drop?"

"Yes," Odell answered quickly after he obediently sat. Ginny frowned. Cephiet wasn't kidding; Odell was like a teary eyed house-elf in the presence of Dumbledore. Ginny could have sworn she saw a small frown on Dumbledore's face, but she couldn't tell; it was so quick.

"I assume you have news from the elves," Dumbledore continued. "I would dearly like to hear it, Miss Weasley."

Ginny told him everything.

* * *

º "And all I _see _is a_ human _I want to_ kill_." – Odell: This is actually a modified _Dune_ quote. Fade Rautha says, "All I see is an Atraides I want to kill."

º "I'll slit you from navel to nose." – Harry: This is a quote from some movie. I forget which one.


	18. The Beginning of the End

**CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: The Beginning of the End**

A silly idea is current that good people do not know what temptation means. This is an obvious lie. Only those who try to resist temptation know how strong it is... A man who gives in to temptation after five minutes simply does not know what it would have been like an hour later. That is why bad people, in one sense, know very little about badness. They have lived a sheltered life by always giving in.

– C.S. Lewis

* * *

A light breeze cut through the trees in the dark forest. The moon shone dangerously bright, almost like a haunted day. No animal cried out in these woods, and no tree whispered in the night draft. The only whispers were between a group of three people.

"Lucius," the rasping voice of Voldemort said in the dead woods. "Where _is_ she?"

"We – we can't find her, my lord," the nervous Lucius Malfoy replied. "She – we think she may be under the Fidelius right now. She – she could be anywhere."

"The Fidelius," Voldemort mused. Then he chuckled and looked at the simpering, nearly bald man beside him. "That hasn't been a problem in the past, has it, Wormtail?" A sly smile formed on the short man's lips, and another chuckle escaped Voldemort's mouth. "Lucius, who would Dumbledore entrust with the information of Miss Weasley's whereabouts?"

"Most likely himself," Malfoy said, more to himself than the Dark Lord. "One of his professors, perhaps?"

"I wonder if Celeste has outworn her welcome in Hogwarts," Voldemort said harshly. "I think she may have."

"My lord," Wormtail spoke up, "what about Moody?"

Voldemort smiled. "Yes, what about Moody? A good point, my dear Wormtail."

Malfoy frowned. "He will not disclose this information to us."

"Maybe not," Wormtail said slyly, "but I meant maybe she is with him. That fool, Dumbledore, would entrust Moody with the girl."

"Good thinking, my loyal Wormtail," Voldemort cooed.

"My lord," Wormtail simpered, "let me fetch her. Let me, Master. I am loyal!"

Lucius sneered at this but kept quiet.

"All right, Wormtail," the Dark Lord said, after deliberation. "I will let you show your loyalty. Don't harm her; I want her in perfect condition."

A smile crossed Wormtail's face, and he felt his pants tighten just thinking about the delicious, redheaded woman.

* * *

"So it has begun," Dumbledore said quietly.

"Most assuredly," Ginny said, grabbing Harry's hand and squeezing it tightly.

After Moody arrived back home from wherever he had been, he made plans to visit Dumbledore and have a "bit of a chat." From what Ginny saw, that meant a war council. Cephiet, Cetia, Odell, and the other sea-elves had been relocated to the forest outside Hogwarts, a special quarter Dumbledore reserved for them.

Ginny was happy to see that elfin healing was fast and Harry was perfectly fine...almost better than fine. She could tell by looking at him that he was stronger than he had been before.

"Just one moment with the power, and he's already adjusting. He's strong, Virgin From Light, maybe too strong," Cetia had said. "I wonder...do you have that same strength?"

"Maybe I do, and maybe I don't," Ginny had answered. "But I know one thing: what Harry does somehow hinges on something I have to do. I don't have to do _that_, something for which I'm thankful."

Cetia had nodded and left into the forest with her brother Cephiet and an elf Ginny gathered was her husband, Altair.

"I wonder," Moody said, drawing Ginny back to the present, "what sort of plans Voldemort has."

"As do I, Alastor," Dumbledore said. "All this is dependent on you two doing what you're supposed to do. I wish I could tell you what that is."

"We wouldn't be worthy," Ginny said spontaneously.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at her. "Worthy?"

"Things don't happen without reason. The universe doesn't throw out prophecies and powerful people just to watch them play. She's testing us, testing to see who deserves to win and have final domination, good or evil. If you were to tell us, it would be too easy, and the universe would reject us. Harry and I must have faith that, when the time comes, we will know what to do."

Slowly, a smile formed on Dumbledore's lips, the first Ginny had seen in quite awhile. "Brilliant," he lauded. "We must let things run their course. Brilliant, Miss Weasley."

"That's my girl," Moody grunted from his seat near the fire.

"One thing," Harry said, speaking for the first time since he'd declined the lemon drops. "It bothers me that Voldemort is still able to penetrate my dreams. That connection should have been severed with the..."

"I know of the second soul in your body, Harry," Dumbledore said off-handedly.

"Right," Harry said quickly. "We talked about it, Draco and me. Voldemort shouldn't be able to contact me through our link. Some protection from the heavens thing I didn't understand."

"To cast a dreaming spell, he'd have to be close by," Ginny added. "But there are protections on Harry's house. No doubt they cover dreams, Headmaster."

"They do," Dumbledore said thoughtfully. "This all points to Celeste Sinistra. Only she could have possibly had access to the charms placed on Harry's home."

"Any word from her?" Ginny asked.

"Slithering bitch escaped our Auror network at the Italy-Switzerland border. We think she is heading to Rome, but she is smart. She won't try Apparation; she knows it will lead us to her." Moody spat into the fire. "We'll get her, though; I promise you that."

"And what of Arabella in the Sudetenland?" Ginny asked, her eyes flicking towards Moody.

"She says things go as planned. Wish I knew what the plans are," Moody grumbled.

Ginny stared into the fire, watching it crackle. _Not much use in trying to find Tom. When the time comes, he will find us or call us to him. He'll want us there when he gains his dominion of the world. Then Harry and I will have to act._

"Miss Weasley," Dumbledore said, releasing her from her reverie. "Miss Weasley?"

"I was...just thinking. All we can do now is wait. Things will fall into place, or they won't. I rather think they will." Ginny looked the headmaster in the eye speculatively. "Still, we should train. Harry has talents that need to be developed further by the elves. They know better than anyone the type of magic he will have to use against Tom, who they call Voldemort Morning Star."

Dumbledore nodded. "Will you ask Cetia and Cephiet if they would be willing to help Harry? I'm sure—" and here he smiled, "—that Odell would be happy to have him as a sparring partner."

* * *

"Let me ask them, Harry," Ginny said as they exited Dumbledore's office. Dumbledore claimed "fatigue inspired sleep." Of course that meant Moody would stay, and they would talk about Harry and Ginny.

"I remember what happened the last time you went off into the woods with elves lurking –"

"Oh, Harry! Don't be dense! They won't do that again. Now just...just go visit Hagrid or something. I'm sure he'll be happy to see you," Ginny said dismissively.

"Fine," Harry reluctantly agreed. Dejected, he headed over to Hagrid's cabin.

Ginny rolled her eyes. Pulling her cloak tightly around her and flipping up the hood, she headed for the elfin camp. It wasn't long until an elf approached her. She recognized him as Cetia's husband, Altair. He nodded and motioned for her to follow him. Ginny did, but kept an eye open. There were about thirty well-spaced tents in which elves were living. Ginny saw very few women and no children at all. She didn't know a lot about elves, but she assumed they did give live birth.

"Virgin From Light," Cetia called to her from a clearing. Altair nodded, and Ginny entered the clearing. Cetia wore a plain, white dress and appeared to be caring for a young tree, a Rowan if Ginny's eyes didn't deceive her. "I felt you would be coming to us. What does Albus Shadowmaker say?"

Ginny took off her hood and looked around her. It seemed very magical, but very new as well. It hit Ginny that they might be trying to make another Holy Circle of Rowans in the Forbidden Forest.

"The headmaster would like to know if you will consent to training Harry Potter in the use of his elemental magic."

"Harry Green Shield the men have taken to calling him," Cephiet said from behind Ginny.

Not entirely surprised, Ginny didn't jump or show signs of fright; she merely turned and nodded her head at him. "He is called The Green Knight in the prophecies of Reonet."

"Reonet Timeless Soul," Cetia agreed. "Yes, we know of her and speak of her thus in our legends. We know of Harry's part in the prophecies."

"I will train him personally, Virgin From Light," Cephiet said regally. "It would be my honor to train Harry Green Shield."

"Dumbledore suggested a sparring partner," Ginny said cautiously. "Perhaps Odell Enorian."

A smile broke out on Cephiet's face. "Odell, yes. Yes, Odell does need a good partner with whom to spar."

Ginny caught a small smile from Cetia as she watered the Rowan sapling. Looking from Cetia to Cephiet, Ginny realized they were speaking again and frowned. They didn't really have the right to do that; it was rude. But what was she to do?

"Virgin From Light," Cephiet said, "I wonder if Harry Green Shield would like to start immediately? These things take years, decades, to learn; the sooner we start..."

Ginny nodded. "I'll get him; he's at Hagrid's cabin."

"Hagrid Twenty Strength," Cetia said with a smile. "I much desire to speak to him again."

Ginny raised her eyes but said nothing else. Altair led her out of the forest to Hagrid's cabin and waited outside as Harry and Hagrid said their farewells. Altair and Hagrid shook hands after a short, formal dialogue, and Ginny wondered once again what Hagrid had done to earn his name...other than that he was obviously as strong as twenty men.

But before Harry and Ginny got back to camp, Altair stopped them. "Virgin From Light, Harry Green Shield, Cetia wishes you to know something. She cannot say it to you personally, nor can she speak of it to others. Cetia says the panther rides at midnight. You won't understand this for a while." As abruptly as he spoke, he stopped and began walking again. Harry and Ginny exchanged a glance, leaving it unspoken that they would talk about it later.

Entering the clearing, Ginny saw Cephiet and Odell talking. Cetia tended to another Rowan silently, a small smile on her face. But as soon as Ginny stepped into the clearing, Cetia looked up, her sea-blue eyes twinkling. "Virgin From Light, Harry Green Shield, welcome. Cephiet and Odell are happy you asked for our services, Harry Green Shield. They would be honored to fill in for Demetrios and Orion. Virgin From Light, take a walk with me, please."

Ginny nodded and pecked Harry on the cheek before leaving him with the other two elves. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Harry and Cephiet shaking hands; then Harry and Odell shook hands stiffly.

"They will be fine," Cetia assured her.

"What did you want to talk about?"

"Harry Green Shield," Cetia said calmly.

They walked in silence for a long time. Ginny noticed this part of the forest was drastically different from other parts she'd seen. It was greener, more open and not as foreboding. The breeze was sweeter here, the sun a little brighter. Ginny wondered if it was the elves' doing or Dumbledore's.

"What about Harry?" Ginny asked, once they were far out of earshot.

Cetia stopped at a small stream and sat at the edge. Slightly confused, Ginny sat, too. She supposed it was relaxing, the current of the river strangely steady, despite the erratic echoing it produced as it twinkled on the shale.

"It's peaceful," Cetia said, straightening her pale dress around her feet. "Is it not? The water is so calm here. Not like ocean water, though I miss Ulannii greatly."

"I guess."

"My brother is the king of the ocean-elves; did you know? He did not want to leave Ulannii, but he knew it was necessary. Sometimes we must do things we don't want to do. I know –"

"What does this have to do with Harry?" Ginny asked abruptly.

Cetia fixed Ginny with a serious gaze. She didn't look angry to Ginny, merely...upset. "Cephiet agrees Harry needs intense training. Cephiet is the greatest warrior of our people, the greatest in history. He wishes to train Harry in the way he was trained. He would take Harry to Aphladendail, a secluded island of elves. The white-elves dwell there, the highest order of elves. My brothers and I are half white-elf, half sea-elf; that is why Cephiet is welcome on the island. The white-elves will train Harry if Cephiet asks them. But you would not be allowed to come."

"Why tell me? Shouldn't you tell Harry?"

"Cephiet – _I _thought it would be wise if you convinced Harry to go with us."

Ginny nodded. "I see now. You think Harry will be unwilling to leave because of his duty to protect me."

Cetia closed her eyes. "We know he would not come. Cephiet and I think it is necessary, though, that he receives this training."

Ginny reached forward and let her fingers skim the top of the cool stream. "He won't like it. He'll fight you the whole time. He'll be stubborn and obstinate."

"I know."

"I could convince him," Ginny said thoughtfully. "He has less than three months. Will that be long enough?"

"Enough to help. I wish we had got here earlier, that we had realized it was so close." Cetia stood. "Thank you, Virgin From Light."

Ginny nodded and set back to the elfin camp with Cetia.

* * *

Harry tossed Ginny on the bed and practically pounced on her. A grin was on his face as he bent down and began kissing Ginny's neck languidly. Running his hands up her sides and then tangling them in her hair, he nipped at her neck, satisfied momentarily as she moaned and pulled him closer.

"Mm, Harry," she murmured as Harry moved to unbutton her shirt.

"What, my love?" he said, breathing heavily.

"I had an interesting conversation with Cetia this evening," she said and then gasped as he began sucking on her breast, delicately tracing her nipple.

"So that is where you went," he growled, pulling at her jeans.

"Uh," she let out. "Yeah. She said –"

"Do you mind? I'm trying to get in your pants right now," Harry said, an edge of impatience in his voice.

"Um, I know." Ginny's heart beat faster as he swiftly took off his shirt and began kissing her again. "But she said some pretty interesting things."

Harry bit her lip a little harder than usual and chuckled. "As interesting as this?" he said as he thrust into her.

"Ah…" Her eyes began to fill with stars. "Not quite," she said, her voice quivering as he pumped into her greedily. Ginny closed her eyes and gasped. This was incredibly different from what Harry was normally like. Usually he was very selfless, not domineering. It didn't exactly bother her; change, after all, wasn't necessarily a bad thing. "She said – ah!"

Ginny had to grab onto Harry's shoulders tightly as he had practically picked her up off the bed in order to gain leverage. One arm holding her to him, the other propping them up over the bed, Harry drove into her fiercely until she cried out.

Breathing heavily, Harry collapsed, but kept kissing her. Trailing kisses down her neck and around to her ear, he mumbled, "I love you, Ginny."

Her head still spinning, Ginny smiled. "I know."

Harry chuckled deeply and pulled out of her to grab the covers off the bed and pull them over his head. Ginny smiled up at him, and he grinned back, leaning down to kiss her again.

"She said you needed training," Ginny whispered.

"Merlin's beard!" Harry said desperately. "What did she say, so I can do this again?"

Ginny laughed and kissed his neck. That was what she liked about Harry; he never got tired of making her happy, even when she had other things she probably should be doing. She completely reveled in the way he made love to her. He was always so athletic – for lack of a better word – in bed. He wasn't always quite so forceful, but always athletic. It was another difference she noticed from Slytherin to Gryffindor. Slytherins weren't always athletic in the way they made love. Mind games were half the fun with them, especially in bed. It was intriguing and everything, but there was something right about just shagging someone's brains out. That was more the Gryffindor motto.

"Okay, be patient," Ginny said mirthfully. "Cetia said Cephiet wants to train you."

"That is what they are doing," Harry said, playing idly with her hair.

"They want to take you to Aphladendail, the Isle of the Elves, and train you, Harry."

She heard Harry sigh as he propped his head on his hand and looked at her. "I'd be leaving you then?"

Ginny nodded. "I'm not allowed. She said it was very important, that there are things you can only learn there –"

"No," he said sternly.

"Why?"

"Who will stay here and make sure you stay out of trouble?"

"I don't need a keeper, Harry," Ginny argued. "Besides, you're a Seeker."

Harry snorted. "What does this training entail?"

"I rather suspect training with your power, that power you used in the woods to protect me."

Ginny could tell Harry was thinking it over because he frowned and bit his tongue with his canines. Mulling it over a little longer, Harry said, "Do _you_ think I should do it?"

"I think...I think it would be wise," Ginny said carefully. "I don't think you should decline their offer. Think of all the things you could learn! I'm...I'm rather jealous, to tell the truth."

Harry sighed, and Ginny took it as a sign of indecision. "I suppose...if and _only _if I can come home anytime I want. I don't fully trust those elves, Gin."

Ginny smiled. "I think you're making the right decision."

"Now that that's over," Harry said suggestively. "Back to that Seeker line. It's not quite the Golden Snitch, but it'll do..."

With that, Harry dove lower, kissing her stomach on the way down.

* * *

Standing on the pier, Ginny looked out at the ocean. White waves broke on the beach and died as they climbed on the sand. It was chilly for autumn, and quite overcast, too. Great, looming clouds sat on the horizon, blocking the sun and giving the sky a depressed look. A chilly breeze whipped through the legs of the dock and flipped Ginny's cloak around her.

A light sea spray hit Ginny's face, and she frowned. Not a seaman herself, she didn't know the temperament of the ocean. But sailing with clouds like that and waves as such didn't seem like a particularly bright idea.

Evidently the elves thought differently for they were talking excitedly as they tied ropes and did other sailing stuff foreign to Ginny. But even to her eye, the ships were beautiful, made of a wood unfamiliar to her. Upon the bow was a silvery maiden, topless, with waves covering her middle. She had mysterious eyes, Ginny decided.

"She looks like you, Virgin From Light," a voice said from behind her. Ginny turned and saw Odell looking off into the sea. "The figurehead. They call her Eblaraith Nanahain, or, in your tongue, Elbaraith Fire Spirit. It is said her soul was made of fire, so she married Odell Duladain, my namesake, to cool her ever turbulent soul. When she set foot on the _Gladenrod_, Odell's ship, she was turned to silver by the ocean water."

"That's beautiful," Ginny said, glancing up at Odell. A strange expression was on his face. It was almost peaceful and reflective, but still held traces of violence and cunning. Ginny decided she didn't like it.

Odell opened his mouth, but Cephiet came over, Harry in tow, and clasped a hand on his shoulder. "Brother, it's time for us to leave."

Odell frowned but nodded his head.

"Virgin From Light, in compensation for taking your protector from you, I leave you my three greatest warriors, Odell Enorian, Antaries Lonadain, and Celenties Gorgrindel," Cephiet said formally.

Ginny's eyes went to Harry, and he nodded. Apparently he'd been informed of this before her. "I accept," she said.

"Antaries! Celenties! Come!" Cephiet shouted. Two brawny elves with blonde hair and slightly paler eyes than those of Cephiet and his sister stopped what they were doing and came to Cephiet's side.

"With that in order," Cephiet said, "I bid you farewell, Virgin From Light. May Omen Rah smile on you always and Ulannii cool you in drought." Ginny nodded, and Cephiet turned; a couple of soldiers followed him onto his ship.

Harry took her hand and led her away from her guard. "Gin," he said as he put his hand on her shoulders, "I'll probably be back before you know it."

She smiled up at him. "I'll be fine, Harry; stop worrying."

Harry grinned at her. "You see through me so easily, Ginny. I won't worry about you, deal?"

"Deal," Ginny said, sealing it with a kiss. To her surprise, Harry lifted her off the ground and held her to him tightly. She threw her arms over his shoulders and deepened the kiss.

Finally he pulled back and looked into her eyes. "I'll be seeing you, Gin," he said quietly, placing a chaste kiss on her forehead.

She nodded, refusing to let the stinging tears in the corners of her eyes fall. Harry smiled at her and walked up the gangplank. As she watched the ship pull out of harbor, Ginny smiled sadly. She wouldn't see him until...well, until the solstice, or a day before maybe. After that, who knew what would happen? If nothing else, she could treasure the memories she had.

Soon she couldn't see the ship on the horizon. Setting her face, Ginny pulled the hood up on her head and walked towards her new guards. _Pft, like I need guards. _The three men turned and looked at her. "Let's go home."

_

* * *

_

_November 24, 1997_

_Dear Diary, _

_I feel the pain of loss now. I miss him so; I have no way of contacting him, no way of seeing him; it's maddening. And to think I gave him to the elves when I may never see him again...well, that's foolish. I will see him again. Maybe not for long, but I will see him. _

_Besides, my life is entertaining as it is. Having three elves living in the same house with Alastor is more amusing than one would think. They just...SIT THERE! Really, I'm not exaggerating. When I first walked into the kitchen the day after I saw Harry off, Odell, Antaries, and Celenties were all sitting at one end of the table looking at Moody, and he was just looking back. It was so funny I had to leave; otherwise, I'd probably have wounded their pride. _

_Stupid male ego, I swear! I rather wonder what they are like when they sleep. Moody put them up in the house, a room for each. Do they sleep in the bed or on the floor? And what goes through their heads? One of them is always on guard outside my door, though. _

_They follow me around like a damn shadow...except there are three...and they're all blonde and tall with blue eyes...they're slightly less talkative than shadows, too. And, what is worse, they all sit there and stare at each other. _

_I've completely discounted that they are speaking in their minds like Cetia and Cephiet do. They just don't look like it. If I didn't know better, I'd say Cephiet sent idiots to protect me. Big, muscled, blonde idiots...weird-d-d-d-d. _

_I suppose it could be worse; they could actually be dumb. _

_They tend to take their work rather seriously. But one day I asked them if they wanted to meditate with me in the _ _Holy Circle__. They seemed excited, to tell the truth. Whether they were excited to be meditating around the Rowans with me or just meditating, I couldn't tell. They have a fascination with the trees and the wind in particular. When I walk by the brook outside the Rowans in the afternoons, they seem pleased to be outside. I think they miss the ocean. They are, after all, water creatures. _

_At any rate, time passes slowly, almost languidly. I have trouble keeping count of the days. Most of this I attribute to the constant and overbearing roar in my ears. Harry manages to keep the cries of the universe at bay. Without him, however, they rage in my head. Only extreme meditation drives the roar away. _

_I'm not sleeping as much either. Lots of nights I just sit outside and try to keep out the noise. The elves seem to appreciate this. I think they are very in tune with the stars and time. _

_One thing I know: I miss Harry badly. _

* * *

"Block, boy! Block!"

Once again Harry was sent flying to the ground, his sword skidding out of his hand as it contacted with the glossy marble. Sitting up partially and rubbing his head, Harry felt a pressure on his chest and a sword point at his neck.

"Potter boy," Glorlindail said in an almost whisper, "were I the enemy, you'd be in shreds. Get up and get your sword."

He removed his foot from Harry's chest and turned his back on him. Harry frowned. It had been four weeks training with the white-elves, and the one word still stuck in his mind was snotty. They were as stuck-up as all hell and didn't seem to care. Maybe it was because he was a human, maybe because they were trying to be hard on him so he'd learn faster, or maybe –

_They're just damn snotty. I thought _I_ was bad. Damn, I wish I'd got lessons from these people_, Draco said humorously in his head.

_Yeah, well,_ Harry said, _you're supposed to help me or whatever. Why don't you start planning snotty things for me to say back?_

_I could, but seeing you berated by a higher being is so entertaining. And you could use some training. _

_Especially the type that throws me on my arse every five minutes? _

_I was thinking every three... _

_Shut up. _

Harry gathered his sword in hand again and stood, wiping the beads of sweat from his head. The marble was cool on his bare feet, and the white linen pants he had been given were light and airy.

As it turned out, the air element came most easily to him and became his greatest ally. Swift and sharp as the North wind, he cut through the distance between him and Glorlindail. Glorlindail, of course, blocked him easily and sent him flying. Fortunately Harry caught his feet and skidded to a halt before he ran into the tall, marble pillar.

Harry stood, feet spread past shoulder width, his sword vertical in the air. Gathering the air around him, he focused it and shot it at Glorlindail. It had a green tint, and it burst upon the elf king, sending him back a few feet on the marble. It was a good shot for Harry.

"Good!" barked the brawny elfin king. "Now block this, boy!"

Sweeping the long sword over his head, Glorlindail whipped the point at Harry, and from it a great, white blast of stinging wind flew at him. Harry just barely got his green shield up before the gust hit, and even then it began to falter. It broke, and Harry went reeling into the stony pillar.

Glorlindail sighed and put his sword in its sheath. He walked over to Harry and pulled him up. "You did well today," he said in his gruff voice. "Go get some rest. Tomorrow you must pass the tests."

Harry nodded and headed to his rooms, slightly favoring his right ankle. Sword over his shoulder, Harry entered what he'd deemed the infirmary as it was the room in which the healing elves usually were when he finished training. The chief healer – he still couldn't pronounce the bloke's name – healed him with a frown and sent him on his way.

Rolling his eyes, Harry flopped down on his bed in his white room and thought of Ginny. It had been too long was all he could deduce. He didn't like the idea of leaving her in the first place, and now he liked it even less. He missed her hands on his chest at night, her fiery red hair in his eyes when he woke. He missed her breathing at night and her small touches. He missed her.

_Get over it. You'll see her soon_, Draco said dully in his head. _Besides, aren't you at all interested in what the test will be?_

_No_, Harry replied.

_You're infuriating; you know that? _

_I've been told that...by Hermione. _

That shut Draco up.

_All for the better,_ Harry thought. _I need my sleep. _

* * *

It seemed as though he'd just fallen asleep when a cold hand on his shoulder woke him from his dreams. Jumping slightly, he saw it was Cephiet, and he relaxed...a bit.

"Harry Green Shield," he said in his flowing, slow voice, "the tests are ready for you. Get up."

Harry yawned and rose from the cradle-like bed. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he pulled on the loose, white pants. "What are these tests anyway?" he asked Cephiet as he tied the white headband tightly around his forehead.

"You will be given a test for the elements. If you overcome it, you will be marked."

"Marked?" Harry asked, following Cephiet out the door and down the great, white halls.

"Marked," Cephiet confirmed. He pulled his shirt down a ways and pointed at a spiraling, twisting design along his collar bone. "It's the equivalent of tattooing in your culture, but it's done by magic. It flows in your veins and under your skin, intricately marking your body. For each person, it is individual; not even my sister's and mine are identical."

"What if I don't want to be marked?" Harry asked carefully.

A snort escaped Cephiet's nose. "It increases power and control tenfold, Harry Green Shield."

"Oh," Harry said simply.

Cephiet turned suddenly outside, and the scent of ocean salt entered Harry's nose. Squinting in the bright sun, he followed Cephiet around the isle to a field with a suspicious looking silver tree. It didn't encourage Harry any when the wind blew and the tree let out a twinkling sound and a quicksilver, glittering cloud. The mist swirled about the tree and drifted peacefully out to the ocean.

Harry closed his mouth and looked up at Cephiet. He nodded and led Harry down to the tree. Four other elves stood there. One of them was the pale white-elf king, Glorlindail. The other three were just as regal, each with a thin crown winding close to their foreheads like Glorlindail and Cephiet.

"Potter," Glorlindail said sharply when Harry came to them. "These are your witnesses, Orthander Deflorian of the plain-elves, Lendri Asin of the mountain-elves, and Henolas Grenlef of the forest-elves, myself and Cephiet Enorian you already know."

"Why do I need witnesses?" Harry asked suspiciously.

Glorlindail sneered in an amused way. "Only the kings of elves are allowed to touch this tree. As an introduction to our highest order, we need witnesses to attest to whether you pass or fail the test. Besides, if you defile the tree with your filthy, human hands, I have four people ready to cut you down."

"Glorlindail," Cephiet warned, "that wasn't necessary."

Glorlindail regally rolled his eyes. "Well, Potter, what are you waiting for? Touch the damn tree!"

Harry looked speculatively from one elf to the next, one eyebrow raised. "A test of kings," the voice of Arthur echoed in his head. Harry sighed and walked up to the tree, facing it before he got enough courage to touch it. Its surface appeared smooth and not bark-like at all. Harry wondered if it was even made of wood and not some metal substance.

He vaguely remembered a storm of whispers as he put his palm on the tree. It was surprisingly cool and soft, not really solid at all. A breeze shook it, and the silver substance fell on him lightly, staining his skin. Harry frowned and made to brush it away, but found he couldn't move his hand from the tree.

Then something amazing happened. It felt like a cool substance had been injected into his blood stream. Looking at his arm, he saw his veins turn silver. The swirling, mercurial liquid shot up his veins and into his chest. He felt it climbing up his neck and through his aorta. A strange cloud filled his eyes, and Harry felt like he was seeing through a silver screen. With his free hand, he ripped his glasses off his face, but the silver lining was still there.

It entered his lungs, and Harry's breath caught. He couldn't breathe. Panicking slightly, he tried to breathe in deeply, but nothing happened. Looking through his sliver tainted eyes, flecks of green appeared before him; they meshed and swirled together to make a metallic green color.

Glancing at his veins, he saw that they were the same as his vision. A burning, stinging sensation started on his neck and traveled down to his navel. It wasn't particularly painful, but disturbing. He looked down on his chest and saw delicate eddies of magic entwining themselves on his skin, occasionally forming angles which looped into fragile crescents. The unpleasant sting traveled from his belly to his shoulders, and it began to freeze, freeze him all over. Breathing labored because of the metallic substance, he began to feel lightheaded.

Then all sensations stopped. Harry fell to the ground unconscious.

* * *

Ginny woke with a headache and sore eyes. Trying to remember what she'd done to become so miserable, she moaned. "Oh, yes," she said quietly.

_

* * *

_

_"Just shut up, elf," Ginny slurred. Taking another drink of whatever she had – she couldn't read the label anymore – she sat heavily on the couch. Nursing the bottle in a depressed fashion, she sighed._

_"If you wish to intoxicate yourself any further, then be my guest –" _

_"Do you think I'm beautiful?" _

_Odell looked at her with open mouth and eyes. _

_"Harry always says I'm beautiful, but he's rather biased. Draco said I was beautiful, too, but he had his own biases." Ginny took a long swig of her drink and smiled. "Well, that shut you up. I don't want a guard right now, Odell. Go away." _

_Odell's face sobered. "I am your protector. A job was given to me by my king, and I'll carry out –" _

_"Oh, shut up! I'm going on a walk!" She stood abruptly and collapsed just as abruptly. The last thing she remembered was a long string of elfish curses coming from Odell's mouth and then darkness. _

* * *

Ginny groaned. She'd got ridiculously drunk. And why not? She was terribly lonely, and her only companions were one smart-arse elf, two mute ones, and Moody, who was constantly going off on business. Besides, alcohol kept the roar down. Anything to keep that constant annoyance away.

Groaning, Ginny made her way to her bathroom and turned the shower on...extremely hot. She didn't have time to mope about. She sighed and did her best to ignore the grinding in her head and the sting of the scalding shower while she washed. She felt particularly dirty for some reason. Letting the hot water take care of that, she leaned against the tiled walls of the shower and put her head under the water as she thought.

She still had one week until Harry came back. One week of guards following her around, one week of loneliness, one week of boredom. Ginny switched off the water and stood in the warm shower for a few minutes before wrapping a towel around her body and walking into her room to change.

Ginny pulled on her black pants and a black short-sleeved shirt then exited her room. Antaries trailed her to the kitchen. Sipping at her coffee, she looked outside, narrowly missing the shadow which passed quickly by the window.

* * *

Harry's wand hand twitched as Glorlindail circled him. Frowning, Harry grasped his sword tighter, took a defensive stance and waited. But no attack came from Glorlindail. Instead it came from Cephiet.

Harry turned around in just enough time to put up a shield and repel Cephiet's attack. A light knock in the back of his head told him Orthander was preparing for an assault, and Harry shot one his way before Orthander of the Plains could counter it.

Wheeling around, Harry's blade met Glorlindail's. Anticipating the attack from Henolas, Harry gathered the air around him and focused it into his palm then released it on the woodland elf. He was flung back into a pillar and didn't rise.

Glorlindail's sword still pressed against his own, and Harry felt his right arm weakening. Bringing his left hand to aid him, he became caught in a battle of raw strength. With a flare of his aura, Glorlindail was repelled like Henolas. Cephiet, Orthander, and Lendri were left.

Harry decided to take care of them with one blow. Forcing himself into a state of calm, he held his sword out perpendicular to the floor and centered the energy around him. With the addition of his inner magic, Harry felt the intricate designs on his chest burn with strain. They began to radiate a silver-green mist and swirl with the focused energy in front of his sword. When it pushed Harry's limits to control the power, he released it on the trio of elfin kings.

It shot violently from his control and headed right at Cephiet, Orthander, and Lendri. They were driven into a hard wall. Harry sank panting on the marble floor, trying to catch his breath. He fell to a knee, and the world spun around him. He'd used too much again. He'd have to remember NOT to do that. Using his sword as a cane of sorts, he stood and wiped the sweat off his forehead and chest.

Glorlindail was the fist to move, and Harry helped him up. The elf king smiled broadly at him. "Finally, I can call you Harry Green Shield. Congratulations! Would you like to return home now?"

Harry stood astonished. Home? To Ginny? Yes. Yes, that was what he wanted to do. Henolas and Cephiet rose, both shaking Harry's hand; they helped Harry and Glorlindail move Orthander and Lendri to the healers.

Harry flopped down on his soft, white bed and dreamed of home. Ginny's delicate hands running over his chest…he wondered what her reaction to his tattoos would be. Ginny's warm and inviting lips on his...he wondered if she tasted the same. Upon reflection, it was probably better.

Drifting off, he dreamed of Ginny. He would have three days with her before the solstice. He was going to make love to her for three days...three days...

* * *

Ginny yawned and fell into her seat in front of the mirror. She sighed as she brushed her hair. Harry was coming home early. She'd received word from him (a beautiful bird of the sea had carried it to her personally), and he'd said he was returning tomorrow. Smiling dreamily, she ran her fingers though her hair. Not ten hours from now, she'd be in Harry's arms again. Her hands went to her throat, and she unclasped her silver necklace. She still kept her six rings on it, though they were more symbolic now. They had become visible after she'd absorbed their power.

Crawling into bed and under the covers, Ginny sighed. Not even the roar of the universe could keep her from happy dreams tonight.

* * *

He'd taken care of those damn elves. It was too easy. He'd just borrowed the Dark Lord's voice (with Voldemort's permission), and they were putty in his hands. Not only that, they were happy to do _ANYTHING_ he wanted. A pang of envy that he didn't normally have this power over people or elves shot through him. But years of psychological training squashed any hopes of grandeur out of his mind. He would return the voice to the Dark Lord.

He'd led them into the forest, telling the one with the sword – the one who seemed to be in charge – to kill the two brawnier ones. He did with relish, and Wormtail stored that bit of knowledge away. If Voldemort could use his voice to control the elves, he would have another army with which to fight the Ministry.

He had told the tall elf to kill himself cleanly and quietly. Of course he did. _Anything for the one with the voice_, Wormtail thought darkly.

Silently climbing the side of the house, Wormtail was amazed it wasn't more booby trapped. He assumed the girl had toned it down as she had three guards with her. A sticky smile formed on his lips, and he fought to not let out a satisfied chuckle. He would have her...maybe in more ways than one...

_NO!_ his training barked at him. _The Dark Lord said in "perfect condition."_ He nodded to himself as he reached the window.

He almost fell. She was brushing her hair in a way he had no doubt she knew was sensual. Groaning as her hands went to her neck, Wormtail once again fought the urge to rape the young Slytherin. But what really got him hot was the way she slid headfirst under her covers, the sweet curves of her hips and legs making his trousers uncomfortably tight.

_She knows you're there,_ a voice in the back of his mind said. _She's teasing you. Let her know who is boss. _

_No,_ he fought. _"Perfect condition." _

Wormtail put a Silencing Charm on himself and crept through her open window. Looking at her under the moon's light, he was glad he had an invisibility cloak and a Silencing Charm as he was dangerously close to coming right then. Fumbling under his robes, he brought out a small vial with a yellow vapor in it. He uncorked it and released the solution under her nose, making sure she inhaled at least three times before capping it again. After waiting a few moments, he nudged her. When she didn't respond, he began to laugh. It was too easy.

_One touch_, his mind pleaded.

_NO! _

He sighed. Maybe his lord would let him later. Maybe as a gift to him for all his hard work.

* * *

Her eyelids were heavy and her limbs even more so. Ginny tried to open her eyes but only managed a flicker. Even her heart seemed disinterested in beating. Forcing a deep breath, she managed to open her left eye. _Am I blind, too?_ _Merlin's beard! What did I do to myself now? _

"Odell," she croaked. To her ears, it sounded more like, "Oadlalauh..."

_Good, I've always wanted to speak troll,_ she thought dryly. Forcing the other eye open, she tried to focus on something. A light hung somewhere off to her left, so she tried that. It was a candle...or a lantern...hell, it could have been the moon, and she wouldn't have known. Something was definitely impairing her vision.

Bringing a hand to her eyes, she tried to rub the sleep from them. Her hand fell limp at her side, and she looked around her again. It was a dark room, a cave almost, with a few candles perched on the walls, dripping wax. Ginny frowned. This was _NOT_ what her room looked like. This was what _SEVERUS SNAPE'S_ room probably looked like, not hers.

Taking another long breath, she forced herself into an uncomfortable sitting position against a dank wall. She groaned and brought her knees to her head. This was _NOT_ how she wanted to spend the day, not at all. She wanted to know where she was and why. Not only that, but who took her and why her guards just stuck their thumbs up their arses.

Ginny groaned and massaged her head in a labored manner. She couldn't remember _anything_. Well...she remembered going to sleep. That in no way brought her anywhere close to a cave or wherever she was.

A clicking sound came from somewhere, and Ginny looked around her. A crude staircase was cut into the stone and a shadow was coming closer to her. Ginny sighed and prepared for the worst. Tom; maybe Lucius Malfoy if she was lucky.

As it turned out, it was neither. It was a short man with balding head and crooked, yellow teeth. _Not really Death Eater material._ _Maybe he's a prisoner, too._

_And maybe not_, she thought when he smirked and squatted in front of her.

"How are you feeling, Miss Weasley?" his sticky voice said. She would have cringed if she could move.

She just stared at him, and he laughed. He pulled a vial out of his pocket, forced her lips open then poured it down her throat. Immediately she coughed and hiccupped, tears stinging her eyes. "Undiluted Pepperup! Are you insane?" she spat, edging away from him.

The man snorted. "No. Merely amused. Come now, Miss Weasley, time for you to wash up. Don't want to see the master all dirty from the floor, now do we?"

He reached to help her up, but she glared at him and pulled her arm away. "Don't want to see the master at all," Ginny grumbled. Without too much effort, she managed to stand – with the help of the wall, of course – and make a good attempt at walking.

The man leered at her as she drew her (upon refection) too skimpy sleepwear around her with as much poise as she could. "Well?" she snapped.

"This way, Miss Weasley," he said, leading her not up the stairs as she hoped, but into another hall in the caves.

Ginny made an effort to memorize the entrances and exits they used, so she could formulate an escape plan. If she knew where she was going, she could transform into a panther and outrun the fools. But she needed to know where she'd be running first. They made another two lefts before the fat man beckoned her into a small room with a bath and a few towels, all transfigured, Ginny guessed.

She gave him a meaningful glare; he just smirked. "Wouldn't want you to escape on us, would we, Miss Weasley?"

"Wanker," Ginny muttered under her breath. She really..._really_..._REALLY_...wished she had her wand.

Shedding her clothes in what she hoped was a businesslike way, she turned her back to him and got in the tub, scrubbing her body down quickly and just barely rinsing her hair. Occasionally she heard a gasp from her onlooker, but she ignored it. Finishing her bath, she stood and reached for the towel.

"_Accio_ towel!" the man murmured deviously.

Ginny clenched her teeth. She _HATED_ this! The slimy bastard wanted a show? She'd give him a show. Turning to the little man, she smiled wickedly. To her amusement, his ears turned pink. Ginny gathered he wasn't very experienced in this. Water dripping from her onto the stony floor, she padded over to him and – to her great amusement – looked _down_ on him. His eyes hadn't moved from her body, but now they looked in her eyes. She could see his fear and...was that embarrassment? She smirked and grabbed the towel quickly from his grasp.

"Leave," she growled. The man turned a deep shade of red and scampered. Ginny couldn't help it; she let out a throaty laugh and dried off, putting on the ("Oh, Merlin, they want me to _wear_ this? Couldn't they have given me paint? It would cover me better than...well, whatever this is.") clothes set out.


	19. Event Horizon

**CHAPTER NINETEEN: Event Horizon**

Evil is a power stronger than will. Could a stone escape from the laws of gravity? Impossible. Impossible, for evil to form an alliance with good.

- Isidore Ducasse Lautreamont

* * *

Livid. Absolutely, without a doubt, irate beyond any hope of calming. Furious. Fuming and enraged with a passion fueled by the deepest, darkest pit of hell. Fire burning all around, clenched jaw and twitching hands angry.

It only began to describe how Harry felt. Not only had he put his faith in the protection of Ginny with the elves, he had felt justified and reassured in doing it. They had told him to let them train him. They had told him they would keep his greatest treasure safe. They had reassured him the best of the best were watching his love's every move.

Now she was gone, and there was an unquenchable fire, fueled by hate and distrust and absence, and it was burning though his sanity. He'd not wished and yearned for five or more years to lose her after they were so in love. He had not gone through hell on Aphladendail, training enough to make him mad, to lose her now.

She was gone.

Captured.

By a Death Eater.

By a minion of Voldemort.

His blood boiled. His mind steamed. Harry could feel the magical tattoo on his chest alternate from burning to freezing to burning to freezing again in annoyance. He clenched his fist next to him and howled.

Collapsing on her bed, he inhaled her sweet scent and imagined he could still feel her warmth. He buried his head in her pillow; he brought the blanket to his face and yelled again into it.

It was all Voldemort. It was all always his fault. It was his fault Cedric was dead. It was his fault all those Muggles were dead. It was his fault Harry's parents were dead. It was his fault Ginny was gone. He would kill Voldemort for this. He would make him suffer. He would make Voldemort scream for this.

Harry sat in the bed and looked around him. He and Ginny would make love in this room again. A smile broke on his face. Images of Voldemort dying at his hands flashed through his mind. He would kiss Ginny again, and everything would be okay.

A small chuckle escaped his lips and grew into a full laugh. Tears streamed out the corners of his eyes as he tilted his head up and laughed out loud. He could almost feel Ginny's lips on his now.

* * *

Not to Ginny's surprise, the fat man didn't come back to retrieve her. Rather a man of stocky build and rough hands with a bad attitude did. He looked her up and down and smirked before leading her down an intricate set of passageways. Ginny understood now.

"I'm sufficiently lost," she said in the calm drawl she'd learned from Draco. "You can take me wherever I really need to be."

The man turned on her and frowned. Apparently he believed her, though, because with three more turns, he led her up some stairs and into the dull light. Ginny squinted; it was brighter than she was used to. It was nearly noon, but the sun was nowhere in sight. Rather hidden by the heavy cloud coverage. Putting a hand to her forehead, she looked around.

_Jungle scenery, check._ _Hulking rain clouds, check. Big stone altar, check. Intihuatana stone, check. _"Peru," she coughed. "I'm in Peru."

"Dreadfully smart, aren't you?" her guide sneered.

"Sorry? Was this a game? I've never played the 'How About I Kidnap You, and You Try to Figure Out Where You Are' game. Do tell me the rules."

Her guide merely sniggered and kept walking up the stairs until there were no stairs left. At which point, Ginny was assaulted with a circle of seventeen chanting Death Eaters sitting around the Intihuatana stone which had on it the Trapezium. She frowned. _It must be the solstice_, she thought. It was the way she had envisioned it would look, channelers around the Intihuatana with the Trapezium there for the energy transfer. There were even mirrors to enhance the magic and channel as much of it as possible to the Trapezium.

She shook her head and looked out around her. "Is it the solstice?" she asked plainly.

"Right in one," her guide said, clearly excited.

Ginny frowned again. A warm wind slid through the ancient stones of Machu Picchu and whipped the silk of her flimsy and quite revealing clothes. The jungle was quiet in this day of wickedness. _Smart animals_, she said to herself.

"Miss Weasley," a cold voice said from behind her.

Ginny froze. She knew that voice _ANYWHERE!_ Licking her lips, she turned around and put a hand on her hip, cocking her head at him. "Malfoy," she spat.

Malfoy just sneered and began a slow walk around her. Ginny didn't follow him with her eyes, merely looked ahead. "It seems you have more to offer than I originally thought, Miss Weasley," he practically cooed at her.

"Good pick-up line," Ginny said, trying to sound superior. "I'm sure it works nicely on Mrs. Malfoy."

Malfoy grabbed her chin roughly and turned it up to him. "I wouldn't speak like that if I were you. Your mouth will get you in lots of trouble, Miss Weasley; don't you forget that."

Staring defiantly into his hard, silver eyes, she said, "I'm not scared of you, Mr. Malfoy. Don't _you_ forget _that_."

He released her harshly, sending her back a step. "Take her to Lord Voldemort, Franklin," he ordered her guard.

The stocky, brainless guard looked at Ginny expectantly, and with one last glare in Malfoy's direction, she followed him. Climbing yet another set of stairs, she came to a stone dais with two chairs sitting on it. One, the larger, was occupied by the ghostly Lord Voldemort himself.

"How nice to see you again, Miss Weasley," the gravelly voice of Voldemort said. "We've missed your stimulating company at my court. Haven't we, Wormtail?" The squatty man beside him nodded, but didn't look at Ginny.

Ginny sneered. It was the man she'd scared away earlier that day. "Wormtail," she spat. "As in Peter Pettigrew the traitor? Disgusting. Where do you find such perverted henchmen, Tom? I'd love three or four myself."

She saw Voldemort clutch the stone chair in irritation, his eyes never leaving hers. "How so, Miss Weasley? Has my loyal servant, Wormtail, done anything to offend you? I expressly told him not to harass you in any way."

"Maybe this 'loyal servant' needs better training. He lacks the same hospitality – Franklin, was it? – has."

"Is this so, Wormtail?"

Pettigrew simpered to his master's feet and immediately began kissing the hem of his robes. He received a harsh kick in return which sent him flying down the stairs to Ginny's feet. She stepped back, appalled.

"I said, is that so, Wormtail?" Voldemort repeated. Ginny didn't miss it. It was clear as day. Voldemort was enjoying this. He was reveling in torturing his own henchman. Ginny was disgusted.

"No – Master – I mean – I only – she was – I would never go against your word, Master!" Pettigrew said, writhing on the floor.

"No," Voldemort said casually. "I don't suppose you know how, my dear Wormtail. Franklin...my _loyal_ Death Eater, perhaps you would like to instruct Wormtail here on how to be a loyal servant of your Lord Voldemort?"

"Yes, Master," Franklin said in his dry voice, a hint of excitement Ginny didn't like hidden in the layers.

Voldemort appeared to hear it, too, and smiled. Franklin hauled Pettigrew away from Ginny's feet, a small smile on his face. Ginny couldn't help but cringe. At one point, she had been headed in this direction. Repressing the urge to puke, she looked fearlessly onto the face of death, Lord Voldemort...the Morning Star.

"Now that we are alone, Miss Weasley," Voldemort said in a slightly amused voice. "Tell me, is this how you imagined it?"

Holding her head up regally, Ginny took a few steps towards the Intihuatana stone on the level below her. "The mirrors were a nice touch."

"A suggestion made by one of my senior Death Eaters," Voldemort drawled.

"And now," she said, turning to him. "Now we wait, I suppose? I do hope this works. It will be even more satisfying when Harry defeats you."

Voldemort let out a low chuckle. "So I will get to see Harry Potter and destroy him once and for all. Good. All goes perfectly to plan."

Raising her chin and looking into his bloody-red eyes, Ginny lifted a delicate eyebrow. "So what," she said imperiously, "do you need me for?"

Another sick chuckle escaped Voldemort's lips. "I desire to see every part of Harry Potter's life destroyed. Even down to his love. Just as all has been taken from me, all shall be taken from him. He will know true loss before I'm through with him."

"You're going to kill me? Then I will see him in heaven."

"I think not, Little Slytherin. I think not."

_Damn_, Ginny thought, _called my bluff_.

"I know your soul isn't welcome in heaven. You will be trapped here by your immortal soul. Even if – that is to say, if you _can_ die – you succeed in dying, you still won't be together. Your soul's been cast out and isn't going back home. You're – for lack of a better word, I use elfish – an Earthbound Spirit."

Ginny clenched her jaw. "Maybe I am cursed with immortality, maybe not. But I will never submit to you, ever."

"You see, my dear Miss Weasley," Voldemort said with an evil grin, "I'm at something of a loss. I, with the help of the Intihuatana and Trapezium, will become immortal. A king, a god, a dark deity to claim and control the lives of those on Earth. And you will be my goddess. I won't suffer anything less. I still feel that hate in you; your beauty and ambition are still present. You've not changed as much as you think."

Ginny turned her eyes from him and breathed slowly, her long hair falling over her eyes. "No! You're wrong. I _HAVE_ changed. I'm better now. I'll _never_ join you. _NEVER!_"

Voldemort just smiled. "That remains to be seen. Now, please, have a seat. You look _absolutely ravishing_, my dear."

Ginny stood her ground defiantly. A smile of amusement on his face, Voldemort pointed his wand at her and murmured something. A vice-like grip pulled Ginny up in the air and sat her down on the stone seat next to Voldemort. A fresh wave of hate washed over her as she tried to stand and flee but was held down by an Enclosure Charm.

Sighing, she gave up pounding on the invisible barrier and sat discontentedly in her seat. She glared at Voldemort, who was looking at her with an amused glint in his snake-like eyes. _So much for turning Animagus and bolting_, she thought bitterly.

"You do look so appetizing when you pout, my dear," Voldemort said in dark mirth. "Is there anything I can get you? Food, wine, a person to play with?"

Ginny looked up at him with mock sweetness. "A wand."

Voldemort just laughed.

* * *

"Harry," Dumbledore said, trying his best to sound soothing. "Harry, we need to make a plan, not run off to Peru and get Ginny killed – not to mention yourself."

"Damn you!" Harry shouted. "She's gone! Gone, Dumbledore! I should have been there –"

"But you weren't, for obvious reasons. Now, stay calm –"

"I'm done with staying calm! I'm going to get Ginny!"

"Mr. Potter!" Dumbledore bellowed. His blue eyes turned suddenly hard and immobile, as if the ocean had frozen over, leaving a white film in its wake. Standing at his full height, Dumbledore looked down on Harry with domineering eyes.

It stopped Harry in his tracks.

"Mr. Potter," Dumbledore repeated. "Do sit, please."

Harry sat.

"I have something dreadfully important to give you, something no one else can. Harry, I am a Shadowmaker; do you know what that means?"

Harry nodded.

"Good. Voldemort is the only remaining Shadowmaker left besides myself. This means either he kills me or I kill him."

Harry nodded again.

"I am tired, Harry." Dumbledore sat down heavily in his chair and sighed. It made him look sad and very old indeed, and Harry felt a pang of guilt for yelling. How could he ever yell at Dumbledore? "I am tired, and though I may not look it, I am old. I wish to give to you what I was cursed with my whole life. It was my one darkness and my one fault as a person. It is also the one thing I think will completely destroy Voldemort.

"You see, Harry," Dumbledore continued, looking at Harry thoughtfully over his crescent glasses, "I have no doubt that you can and will kill Voldemort today, but whether or not his soul will remain to find a body to inhabit is another story. I have the power, as Shadowmaker, to destroy the soul of a fellow Shadowmaker; it is our way. I give this power to you, Harry, in hopes that you will be able to use it against our greatest adversary."

"But, Headmaster –"

"Give me your hand, Harry," Dumbledore commanded.

Harry took it and immediately felt a surge of power enter his body. It glazed his eyes and made every bit of him feel alive and...powerful. He shook it off, fighting it. The feeling returned, but he fought it again, forcing it away into a small corner of his mind. Weakly, he let go of Dumbledore's hand and fell into the chair.

Dumbledore sighed. "It has been done. Go, Harry. Go and do what you must."

Harry left.

* * *

A small smile on his lips, he entered the headmaster's office. Dumbledore was smiling innocently and sucking on a lemon drop.

"They're in position, Albus," Moody said. He lounged in a chair by the fire and observed his old friend.

"Good," Dumbledore said in a distant voice. "Lemon drop, Alastor?"

"No. You know what you've done?"

"I did what I had to do," Dumbledore replied.

"It may kill you."

"It will kill me."

Moody sighed.

* * *

Still in his elfin clothes of loose, white trousers and a white headband on his forehead, Harry Apparated into the deep jungles of Peru, sword at his side. The cool linen on his legs quickly turned warm and sticky, reminding him he was in the _Southern _Hemisphere. Even in the wizarding world, he knew the seasons were reversed down here.

Gazing at the mountain above him, he frowned. There were ruins on top, and an Anti-Apparation Charm was on it.

_You've broken through those before_, Draco reminded him. _By the way, that was a fantastic exit. I do hope we win, so you can practice entrances with such pizzazz._

_Shut up_, Harry growled mentally.

_I'm just saying that breaking though Anti-Apparation Shields isn't the smartest way to go about rescuing Ginevra. Might I suggest something more...subtle?_

Harry mulled this over. _I suppose. What do you suggest?_

_Well, now that you mention it...I seem to remember a secret entrance when I visited here with my father and Ginevra my last summer. It should be around here somewhere...Ah! There! That way!_

Harry looked doubtfully at the huge wall of flora. _That is pure vegetation, Draco._

_You have a sword, you know,_ Draco drawled.

Thumbing his sword, Harry shrugged and began chopping at the extreme plants. Not three swings in, he hit solid rock. Frowning, he cut away at the shrubbery until a wall of stone stood before him. There were signs and pictures etched onto it, most of them worn away by time.

_You never saw this on your trip to Peru...did you, Draco?_ Harry said, an amused edge to his voice.

_Perhaps and then again perhaps not, _Draco said off-handedly. _But I do know that when you put your hand in the hand-shaped indentation and say the password, you enter a secret passageway into the inner temple. Do try._

Harry raised an eyebrow, put his hand on the stone and waited. _Password?_

_Oh, right. It's "Mictlan."_

Taking a deep breath, Harry steadily commanded, "Mictlan."

A deep groan was heard, and the door slid up vertically into the surface of the mountainside. Harry frowned at the old smelling air but entered into the dark anyway. Immediately, a row of torches went up in flame, casting an eerie glow in the passageway.

"Bizarre," Harry said, drawing his sword and looking about doubtfully.

_In more ways than one,_ Draco agreed.

Proceeding cautiously, Harry took the only passage available to him into a small antechamber with a suspicious looking chair in the middle of it. He frowned and looked around. There were three doors – four if he counted the one from which he'd just exited.

_North, South, East, and West, _Draco supplied. _Sit in the chair._

Still eyeing it warily, Harry frowned. _What will happen?_

_How the hell should I know? I just want to sit in the chair._

Even to Harry's ears, it was unconvincing. _Why? _he pressed.

_Well,_ Draco began. _I want to go home._

Harry raised an eyebrow.

_The chair is a way to disembody spirits! You sit in the chair, and your spirit leaves your body forever and ever to find peace in heaven! Good Merlin, Potter!_

_So you're leaving me._

_I've done what I was supposed to do. Will you miss me? I'm sorry we didn't get to know each other better and –_

_And what is that? What were you supposed to do?_ Harry demanded.

_Get you here,_ Draco answered, as though it were the simplest thing in the world.

Harry sighed. _So I'm on my own?_

_Yep,_ Draco answered.

Harry wanted to say something nice...but he couldn't think of anything. Shrugging, he leaned his sword against the stone seat and sat down. Immediately, winds rushed around him, tinted with an unearthly, purple hue. The faster they went, the queasier Harry became, until his vision blurred and he leaned against the back of the chair.

Then the wind cut, leaving him breathless. A silvery image stood in front of him. It was just defined enough that Harry could tell it was Draco Malfoy and he was smirking.

"So you've really got rid of me, Potter," the echoing voice of Draco said.

"Yeah, I guess. Malfoy...you weren't half bad," Harry said quickly.

"You've gone soft on me, Potter!" he practically laughed. "Pull the other, Potter! And apologize to Ginevra for me."

Harry frowned. "At least tell me which way to go," he said stonily, rising from the chair.

The silvery ghost of Draco smiled. "They say the West Wind is the strongest. I, myself, am partial to the South. But for you, I'd travel on the North." With that, the transparent form of Draco floated towards the Southern exit. He paused at the door. "You weren't half bad yourself, Potter."

Then he was gone. Harry bit the inside of his lip. If the rest of the day was as exciting as this, he might go into cardiac arrest. He walked in front of the North exit and took a step in. A tingly feeling of rightness washed over him, and he began to run.

* * *

Ginny shifted uncomfortably in her stone seat next to Voldemort. Unhappy that she was forbidden to move ("which throws escape _right_ out the window"), she frowned and rapped her nails on the arm of the chair.

"How are you, my dear?" Voldemort cooed from beside her.

"Peachy keen," she replied, using a favored Muggle term. "I'm sitting on a granite throne with a _madman _who wants to dominate the world and take me as his dark queen. But other than that, things are _glorious_. Tea, crumpet? Anyone up for a rousing chorus of 'God Save the Queen'? No? Oh well. Let's play 'Who Can Kill the Most Muggles in Ten Minutes,' one of my fiancé's favorites!"

This earned an amused chuckle from Voldemort and a snicker from Lucius Malfoy, who was currently prostrating himself at his master's feet. "It seems," Voldemort said, "I've chosen quite a comedian for a consort."

Ginny fought with her temper and satisfied herself with rolling her eyes. Crossing her legs, she propped her chin on her palm and stared out into the sky. It was rapidly darkening, not only because of the clouds but because the sun was setting. Ginny imagined the stars were above her and she and Harry were outside talking and laughing and making love. Those were her favorite nights, the long, cool ones where Harry would wrap his arms around her and she'd take both of them away to her island in the clouds.

She must have gone starry-eyed or sighed deeply or something, because she felt herself being watched intently. Turning her head, she saw it was Voldemort. She tried to ignore it, but her eyes kept tugging back to him. Soon she felt herself facing him, staring into his eyes and moving towards him. "What are you doing?" she whispered sharply. A pang of electricity shot down her body, and she found herself very hot.

"Stop it!" she said, trying to move away from him. "Stop it!" she repeated more desperately.

Voldemort merely smirked at her and put a spidery hand on her thigh, moving up it purposefully.

"Damn it!" she bit out. "Stop it, or I swear to God –"

"You'll what?" Voldemort said. "What exactly are you going to do? I've blocked you from using magic. You can't move from your seat. How are you going to stop me?"

"Harry will come for me," Ginny whispered. "Harry will stop you."

This earned a snort from the Dark Lord. He pulled back and looked at her with a mad glint in his eye. "Harry, you say, will come for you. Harry? My dear Miss Weasley, I'm counting on it."º A wicked laugh started in the back of his throat and echoed off the mountainsides. He was soon joined by the simpering Lucius Malfoy in his revelry.

Ginny felt unexplainably and undeniably alone at that moment. Tears stinging the corners of her eyes, she looked on at what she had done. She'd caused this. She'd been convinced she could trick him somehow, make him botch it. Now, he was going to win and kill Harry and do who knew what with her. _If only I'd been in Gryffindor, none of this would have happened, _she thought morosely. _If only I'd just let myself have a heart. If only I'd given it to Harry earlier. If only..._

"Harry," she said dumbly.

He was there, plain as day, staring right at her. He looked different...different, but still delicious. He wore thin, white, loose trousers and a band around his forehead, covering his scar, and not much else. He did have the most interesting silvery-green tattoos, however. They spiraled from his shoulders to his navel in the most beautiful way. His sword was perched on his shoulder, and there was an odd look to him. Set determination, perhaps. Confidence and defiance, too. His lip was curled into a confident smirk. Ginny was really turned on by the smirk.

"Harry," she repeated slowly. He was really there. A slight laugh left her lips, and Harry's smirk widened. _Oh, I'll need to talk to him about doing that,_ Ginny thought absently.

"Harry Potter," Voldemort said, at ease. "Well, isn't this a surprise. Miss Weasley and I were just discussing the chances of your coming here. Do –"

"Shut up and fight me, Voldemort."

Ginny saw Voldemort's hand flinch and let a small smile aimed at Harry grace her lips. "Not exactly gentlemanly," Voldemort said with a wave of his hand, "but I suppose I can only expect so much out of a Gryffindor barbarian. A duel it is then."

Harry just snorted and spread his legs a little wider than shoulder width apart, his sword vertical in the air. The confident smirk fell off his face and was replaced by a look of complete focus. Though he wasn't looking at her, Ginny smiled and scooted to the edge of her seat, hands rapping nervously on her knees.

Abruptly Voldemort clapped his hands three times. Death Eaters appeared out of nowhere; they circled Harry with heavy, black robes flowing about them. Masks of silver hid their faces. From what Draco had told Ginny, this meant they were the highest order of Death Eater. She counted ten against one – not a very fair fight. These would be the strongest, most loyal Death Eaters, the cream of the crop. Ginny wondered idly why Malfoy wasn't among them. Looking about her, she saw Lucius Malfoy had slithered out of the way and was now standing behind her chair, wand at ready.

"These, Harry Potter," Voldemort spat, "are my best warriors. If you defeat them, maybe you will be worthy to fight me."

The Death Eaters formed a loose circle about Harry, but Harry just smirked. Ginny wondered what he'd learned with the elves. He put one of his hands on the long, silvery blade of his sword and closed his eyes. Ginny heard a few snickers from the Death Eaters below her and frowned. Harry had something up his sleeve, and she couldn't wait to see what it was.

A powerful force began building in Ginny's chest. Slowly and steadily, it grew, rapping at her ribs lightly and then progressively stronger. Ginny smiled; Voldemort hadn't noticed it. Something was happening. Something that had to do with the prophecy; something very powerful. She let it grow, thudding in time with her heart. When the right time came, she would release it.

The first Death Eater attacked. He had barely raised his wand when Harry struck. Faster than Ginny thought humanly possible, Harry's sword was in the Death Eater's gut. The Death Eater stopped in the middle of the long sword, his body language transmitting surprise and pain. Harry sneered and twisted the blade in the impaled man. He removed it swiftly, and the Death Eater stepped back. Harry wiped both sides of his blade on the dying Death Eater and watched as he fell to his knees and then on his face.

All chaos broke loose. Many battle screams filled the dusk sky, and angry, black robes hurled towards Harry. Wands flashing with spells and hexes, the Death Eaters charged; they surged like a mad ocean around Harry. But to Ginny's eyes, nothing seemed to stop him. Hell, nothing seemed to hit him or even get close! He was faster than she could have imagined. Not only that, the strange, metallic green tattoo on his chest was glowing wildly, adding to how fast he appeared. As his sword cut down Death Eater after Death Eater, he reminded Ginny of the heroes of old, the ones infused with mighty strength when their adversary was so powerful it seemed almost hopeless odds.

As quickly as it started, it ended. The black robed villains lay spread out on the stone floor of the temple. Some were missing limbs, and some were merely bleeding. Some had been hit with spells, maybe from Harry or maybe from a fellow Death Eater.

Panting lightly, Harry stood to full height and looked up to the dais, right at Voldemort. "I will fight you, Voldemort! Come and fight me!"

It became obvious to Ginny that Voldemort was stalling. The sun wasn't in the right position yet; it needed to be dusk for The Alignment to infuse him with power. But dusk wasn't far off, only ten minutes at most.

Like a slippery shadow, Voldemort stood at Ginny's right. He shot a glance at Malfoy, and Ginny cringed as she felt cold steel on her neck. "Do be a good girl, Miss Weasley," Malfoy instructed. "We wouldn't want to spoil this, now would we?"

Ginny looked at Harry and hoped her eyes told him what she wanted. He shook his head. He wouldn't sacrifice her. He'd come too far to sacrifice anyone anymore. She sighed and said, "Do it, Harry! Just do it!"

The knife pressed close to her skin, and Malfoy chuckled. "Shouldn't have done that," he whispered into her ear, taking it between his teeth and biting hard. Ginny tried not to scream and just flinched.

"Malfoy!" Harry said dangerously, taking slow, meaningful steps towards the throne on which Ginny sat.

Malfoy laughed a sick laugh and licked up the blood pooling on Ginny's shoulder; then he smiled at Harry. "Shouldn't have left her, Potter. She'll make a good ornament on the immortal throne of Lord Voldemort."

Rage contorted Harry's face, and a strange thing happened. A green aura began glowing around Harry, and the air around him visibly moved to a central point in front of his sword. Ginny sat amazed, eyes wide. The point of focus grew to a ball of energy, and Harry smiled.

"Let her go, Malfoy!" he yelled. Not giving him time to answer, Harry pointed his sword at Lucius and released the glowing, green energy at him. Ginny felt the force and power of the curse like weapon Harry had created as it skimmed her head and hit Malfoy directly in the chest. He flew backwards, his body rifting apart with the force of the magic and thrown off the edge of the dais to the valley below.

Ginny looked at Harry in astonishment. He rested his sword on his shoulder and looked at Voldemort. "Now fight me. That is unless you're scared."

That got Voldemort so visibly angry Ginny could see his veins throbbing in his deathly pale throat. He walked slowly down the steps of the dais, wand slipping from his sleeve into his hand. Ginny smiled; she could feel his hold on her weakening as he focused more energy and magic on Harry.

"Well, Mr. Potter," Voldemort said coolly. "It seems you've finally grown up. Not much of an improvement, if you ask me. But since you have defeated Lucius (he was unfortunately my strongest Death Eater), I suppose you've earned the right to be my servant. Submit, and I may decide to favor you with top rank among my Death Eaters."

Harry snorted.

"Not convinced?" Voldemort said, making a slow and lazy circle around Harry as he spoke. "I will have powers beyond all imaginable thought, young Potter. I'll be able to give you immorality by the end. I can give you anything you desire: money, fame, power, women, you name it. I will have the power, Potter. All you have to do is drop you sword and surrender."

Harry was watching the pacing Voldemort. A nasty spark glinted in his eye, and he frowned. "You want me to submit. I'll get anything I want. Power? Money? Influence?"

"Yes, yes, and yes, Harry," Voldemort said excitedly. "All this and more. You and I could rule the world!"

"Rule the world," Harry said speculatively. "You know, I think you may be stalling, Voldemort. Why don't we just fight, and whoever wins gets Ginny and the power, deal?"

Voldemort's nostrils flared angrily, giving the impression of an enraged snake with his red, vertically slit eyes. "That is a very unwise decision, Potter." Then he swiftly pointed his wand at Ginny and yelled, "_Accio _Ginevra!"

Ginny felt a pull in her stomach and became aware she was hurtling right at Voldemort. His long fingers gripped her neck, and she brought her hands to her throat, trying to scratch him away. It was all to no avail; her world became dizzy and faded.

"No!" Harry yelled, charging Voldemort.

Ginny's legs swung as she was moved, and her eyes rolled, catching the view below her. Voldemort held her over the edge of the temple, laughing hysterically. "Come one step closer, Potter, and she dies!" he cackled; his fingers tightened around her throat. "Does this look familiar, Potter? Seen this before...maybe in a dream?"

"Let her go, Voldemort! This is between you and me; leave Ginny out of it!" Harry shouted, his sword still at ready.

Ginny couldn't see around her very well, only black with occasional color. There was a great, white light above her, and she thought it might be the sun. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head, and she passed out.

* * *

"NNNOOOOOO!!!" Harry yelled frantically. "LET! HER! GO!"

"You want me to let her go?" Voldemort laughed maniacally. "Well, then, Potter, let her go I shall. Save the world, or save your precious Ginny."

Then he let her drop; her thin form plunged to the ground. Harry didn't even think about it; he dropped his sword and flung himself over the edge. "Ginny!" he yelled at her descending form, willing it to stop moving.

Using his manipulations of the air, he dove faster until he was almost nose to nose with Ginny. He grasped her in his arms and stopped. He'd not done this before, levitate in thin air. It was like flying on a broom, but a thousand times freer and more liberating. Air swirled around him faster, keeping him up, and he gently glided down, Ginny light as a feather in his arms.

It had been so long since he'd seen her. She was wearing some ridiculous outfit, showing far too much skin; Harry could only think Malfoy had picked it out. He frowned as he landed and held Ginny in his arms gently, brushing some fallen strands of hair from her face. "Ginny," he whispered in her ear. He knew she was alive; she was breathing. "Ginny," he repeated, kissing her cheeks lightly. He was with Ginny; that was all that mattered.

"Harry," she mumbled, her eyes flickering open. Her eyes were glossy from wanting to cry. His strong Ginny never cried though. He loved her for it.

"Ginny." Her body shuddered against him as she sighed deeply. Reaching for his face, she caressed his skin and kissed him. Gods, he'd missed her touch. "Ginny," he moaned as she kissed him again and again, deepening with each fragile touch.

She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. "You've got to go, Harry," she whispered.

A sharp cry sounded above them as a column of light hit the temple. Light exploded and filled their eyes. It was impure light, though, tinted with gray and black stands. The cry could only be Voldemort receiving his power.

"You have to go!" Ginny said again, clambering out of Harry's arms and looking pleadingly at him.

"It's done," Harry said. He was strangely calm. He didn't need anything but her, even if it was for a few moments. "He's won, Ginny. I chose you."

Ginny paled, and a single tear broke loose of her dam. Then her eyes grew very wide, and she bent over in pain, grabbing her stomach. "Ah!" she cried in agony. Her breathing became sharp and labored.

"Ginny! What's wrong?" Harry asked, rushing to her side and kneeling down with her.

She was openly sobbing and crying, as if she was being possessed by something. She began glowing an unearthly purple, and her body levitated in the air. She still clutched at her stomach, contorting in unimaginable pain.

"Move away, Harry!" she screeched, the purple glow angry and throbbing. She arched her back and screamed again, the pain apparently too much for her to bear. "AAAHHH!!!" she cried out as the glow centered around her abdomen. Her breathing was short and strenuous, as though she couldn't inhale for some reason.

Harry, on instinct, stayed back. Something told him this was supposed to happen. It hurt him to see her in so much pain. She cried out again, and the purple glow shone brightly for a second, turning white in the center before she let out another yell and fell heavily to the ground.

Above her was a sword. Not just any sword...but a Sword. It was huge, a real long sword. It was made of a foreign metal, nothing elves or men could invent. It was wreathed in glowing, red fire, and encircling it were steams of water and air, which rotated around it in many circles along the blade.

Walking slowly over to Ginny, Harry knelt beside her, never taking his eyes from the elemental sword. He looked at the hilt. There was a word there. It was –

"Xanu," Ginny croaked as she stirred and sat. She was breathing heavily still, a grimace on her face as she tried to stand. Harry helped her, and she leaned heavily on his shoulder.

"What?" he asked.

"Xanu the Dagger," Ginny replied tiredly. "I guess it is Xanu the Sword now. I got it here. My soul was nurturing it, giving it power. It's my part in the prophecy, Harry. I'm the Mother of War. I gave 'birth,' so to speak, to the Sword of War, Xanu the Sword. You must use it to defeat Voldemort."

Harry looked at her, and she nodded. Cautiously, he gripped the hilt and was surprised by how light it was. Considering its size, it should have been a good twenty pounds. Harry hefted it from hand to hand, swishing it over his head and to his left and right. Gripping it with two hands, he smiled. "It's perfect. I can feel the power in it, Gin."

"Good," Ginny said. "Now get me up there; I'm going to hunt some Death Eaters."

At that, Harry frowned. "You're staying right here."

Ginny raised an eyebrow and put her hand on her hip. "Am I? I think not. Just do that flying thing and get us up there. I can help you."

"You don't have a wand," Harry said, searching for an excuse.

She snorted. "I don't need a sword to kill a Death Eater, Harry. Now let's go."

Harry sighed and looked at her speculatively. "All right."

She smiled and kissed his cheek. "I missed you."

He looked her in the eye for a moment, savoring her image, memorizing it for the thousandth time. Then he nodded and grabbed her around the waist with one arm while she held onto his shoulders. Harry focused his energy on lifting Ginny and himself. He found it was easier if he borrowed energy from the sword.

"It's like a tornado!" Ginny yelled.

Harry nodded and flew higher, the wind whipping about him and Ginny in a cylindrical motion, higher and higher until they rested on the uppermost level of the temple. Ginny let go of his shoulders, but he kept one arm around her waist as they looked around, his sword propped on his shoulder. Below them, the Dark Lord was going mad, cursing people for no reason and laughing grotesquely. He had a black glow about him, and magic radiated from him like heat from a fire.

Harry looked at Ginny and found her frowning. "He's strong, Harry," she said, meeting his eyes with her coppery ones. "Stronger than you could ever imagine. I want you to come back to me."

Harry nodded and looked down. Voldemort still hadn't noticed them; he was too busy shooting arms of black lightning at his followers. Death Eaters were scattering, some jumping off the pavilion, others scrambling down into the temple. Giving Ginny's hip another squeeze, Harry waited for them to be noticed by the Dark Lord.

When Voldemort had run out of people on whom to test his new and awesome power, he began talking to himself. "...become greater than God himself. I _am_ God! Nothing can stand in my way now! Nothing!"

"I wouldn't be so sure, Voldemort!" Harry yelled from far above him.

Ginny smiled as Harry called down to Voldemort. This was the way things were supposed to happen. This was the way things were going to be. Harry held her around the waist, as if she would fall. No, she wouldn't fall, but she was going to hunt some Death Eaters.

"I've come back! More powerful and more deadly than before! Face me, Voldemort! Face me and die!" Harry boasted. With a last look at Ginny, he leapt the fifty feet to the ground and landed lightly on his feet, standing his full height.

* * *

As much as Ginny wanted to see this, she had something she should be doing. Smiling, she turned into her Animagi form, a panther. Testing her muscles, she leapt from incline to incline down the temple. It felt great and free. She loved the way her muscles contracted when she jumped and stretched. Her claws were sharp, too sharp, from under-use. _I'll have to take care of that_, she thought mildly.

Landing deftly on the ground, she took a last look at Harry and Voldemort. It was impossible to tell who was winning; all she could see was a great black aura clashing with a silvery-green one. Then she padded into the temple.

She smelt death all around her, death and fear. It was almost impossible to smell people, so many had passed in the last hour. But she could hear them; their feet scratched and scuffed the floor, giving away their positions. She took the path most of the Death Eaters seemed to be taking into the jungle.

Ginny licked her whiskers, wetting them so they would be more sensitive to vibrations. She stepped into the open air and found it raining. Horrible, black rain clouds with black lightning crashing from them filled the air, near deafening to her sensitive hearing.

Catching the scent of blood, she sprinted into the dark forest. They wouldn't be able to hear or see her in the forest; shadow and rain were her allies. Few raindrops bested the great leaves of the canopy, but enough to make her comfortably cool as she leapt from branch to branch.

She was near the person; she could hear him breathing now. The man was limping, leaning heavily on his right leg. Ginny's nose picked up the sharp scent of blood, and she had to restrain herself from making the kill. She wanted them caught. They would suffer in prison for what they'd done. They'd suffer for a long, long time.

She pounced on the man, and he yelled loudly. Pawing the back side of his head, she made sure to knock him out, not kill him. His scent was familiar, something she remembered from when she was human. Rolling him over, she discovered who he was. Wormtail. Peter Pettigrew. If panthers smiled, she'd be grinning from ear to ear.

"This way, Eloe," a soft voice said. "I heard something from over here."

Two cloaked figures headed toward Ginny, and she leapt out of sight into a tree dense with foliage. Crouching in case it was a Death Eater, she waited. But to her surprise, it wasn't. In fact, they were elves. She frowned mentally. What were elves doing there? What were they doing with their bows and swords?

"We're being watched, Nevis," the other said. He swung his bow and pointed it right at Ginny. "There, in that tree. The black cat. It isn't a cat, I don't think."

_It could be worse_, Ginny decided. Doing her best to keep her balance, she morphed back into her human form and looked down at the two elves.

"Is it the nature of forest cats to turn into women?" the first asked her, not lowering his bow.

"Or rather is it the nature of women to turn into forest cats?" the second asked.

Ginny smirked and stood to her full height, satisfied she had such good balance. "Neither, actually. What are you doing here, elves? This is the prophecy's fight, not the elves'."

"Then what are you doing here?"

"Hunting," Ginny replied. "Hunting Death Eaters, to be specific."

"She's the Virgin From Light," the second said to her partner. "Aren't you?"

"Yes," Ginny replied. "I was. My job is done now. The rest is up to The Green Knight." She hopped delicately to the ground, landing soundly on the balls of her feet. "Capture, not kill. Remember that." Then she turned into a panther and went on with her hunt. There were a lot of Death Eaters out there, and they weren't quite out of the Anti-Apparation Shield yet.

* * *

Harry felt calm and ready. He'd been living his whole life for this moment. He'd waited years, trained in the harshest conditions, and dedicated every fiber of being to this one fight, this one doom.º Now that he was here, everything settled in its place. The air was right; the sound was right; even the pouring rain was right. Now was when he would grasp victory; now was when he would battle evil in its purest form.

Gripping his elemental sword again, he faced Voldemort. He could feel Voldemort's increased power; it was radiating at him. A weaker man would have been blown away. But one could say the same about Harry's power, too. His silver-green aura flared wildly to meet Voldemort's midnight black.

"Give up, Potter," boomed the Dark Lord. His black robes hung damply at his sides, rain beating down on the both of them as they faced off.

"Never!" Harry replied rebelliously. "I'll never let you take this world, Voldemort!"

"Then you will DIE!" A great wave of black magic poured from his fingertips right at Harry.

Harry summoned his green shield and fended off the blast. He could feel his feet moving backwards with the force of his hit, but stayed strong; his shield would hold forever.

Voldemort pulled off the onslaught and rallied with wrist-thick arms of black lightning. The veins hit Harry before he had a chance to retaliate, causing him to cry out in agony as the lightning ripped through him. He managed to stay standing, however, and struck back with a barrage of his own. Fierce winds erupted from his being and tore at Voldemort, knocking him back and earning a howl of pain.

Panting heavily, Harry looked through his thick hair at Voldemort. He'd used his strongest attack, and Voldemort was barely scratched. It encouraged Harry to think that Voldemort had just used his most powerful attack as well and Harry was doing fine.

"This battle," Voldemort said in a deceptively composed voice, "cannot be won with strength, it seems. Rather, it should be won by the person with the most control and finesse. Take your pick, any weapon. A duel to the death, Potter!"

"I choose a sword!" Harry returned, smirking.

A small smile formed on Voldemort's lips, and he clenched a hand. A black, pointed spike of fire shot out from his fist into the shape of a sword. He swung it about and then clutched it with two hands, satisfied with his creation.

With an incline of his head, Harry darkly saluted his foe, leaving a wide space between him and Voldemort. Voldemort only smiled sinisterly, raising his sword in ready position. Like a sweeping shadow, he charged Harry, a battle cry on his lips. Harry blocked the heavy blow easily, wheeling out of the way of the flashing sword.

But then the blades made contact; they hissed and spat at each other, as though they were polar opposites, both attracted and repelled. Blocking another swing, Harry danced around his enemy with feline grace. He was much quicker than Voldemort; that was for sure. He thought perhaps Voldemort hadn't had formal training in fencing which would help Harry.

Fighting off the instinct to use overpowering force, Harry dodged and deflected the mighty, fiery blade of Voldemort, only occasionally thrusting. Never with the intent to hit did he attack, though, only to weary his opponent.

If Voldemort realized Harry was playing this game, he never made mention of it. He seemed to think he was winning, getting the upper hand, because all Harry did was block his heavy blows. Hit after hit, Harry allowed himself to be driven back. But Harry also noticed every blow was getting weaker. He realized this was Voldemort's real fight with his power and he didn't know the extent or measure of Harry's power yet.

This was an advantage for Harry. Though he had gained an exceptional amount of power from Ginny and her sword, he knew what he could do and how to gauge his energy. He blocked another swipe at his head and dodged under the blow, nicking Voldemort in the stomach, ripping his black robes. A few of these light hits lined Voldemort's torso and arms, but no hit had yet to land on Harry.

Harry drew his sword up to block a vertical attack from above, falling to one knee under the strength of Voldemort. A smile was on Voldemort's face, something like a look of victory. Harry strained under the pressure but kept in control. Now was the time to show his full power, as Voldemort was obviously losing command of his.

With a great burst of energy, more than Harry knew he had, he rose up from under Voldemort's blow to land a heavy one of his own in the Dark Lord's gut. Voldemort paused, and Harry withdrew his sword, a grotesque, black substance burning off his blade.

Smirking, Harry went to work. Hit after hit, blow after blow, thrust after thrust, he beat back his opponent skillfully. His aura blazed, sending silver strokes of lightning of his own into the black clouds. Rain poured heavily on him as he drove at Voldemort again and again. The black blaze of Voldemort's sword was giving; Harry could feel it when he battered at it. It was failing; the dark power of Voldemort was failing.

Harry knew it was time. No more playing. "Now, Voldemort," he breathed, "YOU DIE!!!" Gathering his remaining power, he focused his entire aura and being into the attack. A great burst of energy and magic rocketed from Harry, swirling right at Voldemort. There was nowhere for him to go; Voldemort would be caught in the blast.

As the great green and silver stranded beam riveted into Voldemort's soul, he cried out in anguish, rifting apart atom by atom until there was nothing, not even a trace of his soul. Then, as if an aftershock, a great boom sounded throughout the mountains, echoing off the distant Andes and in the narrow valleys between the peaks. It was full with finality and resolution.

Harry fell to his knees, dropping his sword before him. Feeling very lightheaded, he put his hand on the ground and tried to stay conscious. The rain had all but stopped, and his blade still burned, though less intensely. The wind and water and fire surrounding it slowly died, leaving just the unearthly metal.

A small smile on his face, Harry rolled over, and blackness covered him, a few light drops of rain sprinkling his face.

* * *

º"Harry, you say, will come for you. Harry? My dear Miss Weasley, I'm counting on it." – Voldemort: Yeah, I definitely stole this from somewhere and have forgotten where.

º...this one doom. – Harry narrative: An obvious but reverent Tolkien rip-off.


	20. An Elegy of Prose

(**_A/N_**: **_FINAL CHAPTER_**! One last thanks to all of you who reviewed!)

* * *

**CHAPTER TWENTY: An Elegy of Prose**

"What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from."

– T. S. Eliot

* * *

_August 31, 2014_

_Dear Diary,_

_It's been a long time since I've updated you. It all seems so long ago now, but I can still remember. So where was I? Yes, I know._

_Adding insult to injury, I was commanded to stay away from Harry until he was fully healed. Not that I was angry anymore; rather, I was impatient. After all I'd been through, I deserved happiness, and that was what I was going to get._

_I managed to patch things up with my brother and most of my family. My mother and I aren't on speaking terms yet. She still feels betrayed, I think. Oh well. I guess everything can't be perfect. I did get invited to Hermione and Ron's wedding, however. It's in February. The baby's due in September. They are very happy._

_I am too. Harry and I live far away from everyone, especially the wizarding world. It's a large, white house in the country. No one is around for tens of miles. I also put up an Anti-Apparation Shield with a five mile perimeter to discourage any visitors._

_That doesn't stop Harry's godfather, Sirius Black, though. I like Black well enough now, I suppose. He's very funny and easy going now the war is over. He and Lupin come over frequently. Moody, Arabella, Fletcher, and the twins have been known to show up from time to time. Ron and Hermione visit Harry often as well. I survive their visits. I'm uncomfortable the whole time._

_The only time I really feel whole and safe is around Harry. I've pretty much shut myself off from everything but him, and he's done the same with me. People don't react to us well, saving the world from Tom and all. We were tired of the looks, tired of the questions, the whispers. We just want to stare into each other's eyes._

_I feel fortunate, I guess. Fortunate and happy._

_He asked me if I wanted to get married. I didn't, still don't. What's the point? It's in our souls. I feel marriage is a thing people use to get closer to someone. Harry and I already have that closeness. I think it hurts him though, knowing we will never marry. He wants to. He wants children as well. I can't have children. Well, I can, but I won't. Children are something I don't know how to deal with. How can I have a child when I don't know what it's like to be a child myself?_

_Besides, they'd turn out all dysfunctional and unhappy. They wouldn't fit in with Harry and me. I need him, not an army of him._

_My family life was never...satisfactory. I would never put another person through that ever. To be literally next to hated by my closest family...I'd rather not think about that now. I don't see them much anymore. They forgave me. I'd forgiven them long ago. I didn't deserve them, though. They didn't deserve me either, come to think of it. I put them through too much and I did too much to fit in any more. Oh well._

_I don't like thinking too far ahead. I don't know what will happen to Harry and me; I don't know what the future has in store for us. You see, I lost most of my powers. I suppose I drained all of them into the sword, and all of the sword's power drained into Tom, killing him._

_But I did get something, something very precious to me._

_As it turns out, I hadn't lost my soul, though it had been taken from me. My body and psyche just couldn't handle all the power inside me. My soul was the power of the rings, the power of the sword; for the longest time, my body couldn't deal with it. So when I died, it was put in the keeping of Reonet, the Timeless One. She came to me in my dreams not two hours after the defeat of Tom and returned it. I'm mortal now; my soul is mortal._

_My dreams of dying peacefully with Tom dead are fulfilled. I didn't realize I would pick up my soul mate on the way._

_I suppose that's the way things go. Do something for Fate, and Fate will do something for you. Fate is funny like that._

_Around a year after the defeat of Tom, Cephiet and Cetia came with a large group of elves, representatives of each of the divisions. They gifted us with elfin magic and entertainment and presents, showing goodwill to their savior. After all, Harry had killed the last of the Shadowmakers, and Dumbledore had given Harry his gift. As it turns out, Harry doesn't have the right gift to be a Shadowmaker, and it just disappeared._

_I think that is why Dumbledore died. The abilities of a Shadowmaker reside in the soul. Dumbledore gave up part of his soul and, as forfeit, his life. He died that spring. On the equinox, as Fate would have it. Funny how he and I were polar opposites yet I still mourned his death. It was tragic and brave, every bit the Gryffindoric hero._

_To die with the cause finished must have been his greatest dream. And by the time he died, it really was over. Moody took the Death Eaters he found in the rainforest and systematically killed all of them. No pity. No trial. No remorse. Just justice. It was his call. He did do one thing, though; he let Peter Pettigrew live. Peter Pettigrew still lives in a dark cell in Azkaban, all his secrets revealed (freeing Black) and his mind broken. I actually think he might occupy the same cell Brigid did. She killed herself right after Malfoy's death became public. Moody handed her the knife to do it. It was humane of him._

_On reflection, the first year was the hardest. To be so blindly thrown into hate and betrayal, to be the only Weasley ever put in Slytherin was hardly healthy. But in the end, it is what saved Harry and me. Never underestimate the power of love. The best thing in the world, the only thing that gives true happiness and wholeness, is to love and be loved in return._

_I think this will be my last entry. I just needed the closure._

– _Ginny Weasley Potter_

* * *

"Capella? Capella? Capella, dear, where are you?"

"I'm here, Mum," the violet eyed girl said, closing her book and looking to her mother.

Her mother smiled down on her. "You've got to get ready, Capella, dear. Back to school tomorrow. Hogwarts doesn't get any easier your seventh year." Then getting a look at her daughter's reading material, she added, "Are you reading that book again? You've read it a thousand times already."

Capella clutched the book to her chest. "Yes," she said defensively. "It's wonderful! I'll go to bed as soon as I read the last page, Mum."

Her mother looked at her suspiciously then sighed. "All right. One more page. Good night, sweetie pie."

"Good night, Mum," Capella replied, eyes returning greedily to the text.

She'd got it, or rather inherited it, when she was born. From an uncle, she was told. Very distant, she had figured, and very rich. There were a lot of beautiful clothes in it, a wand that didn't work for her, and loads of other stuff. Notes too advanced for her in Arithmancy and Transfiguration, too. There were also beautiful and detailed sketches. She'd found a collection of sketches called the Seven Maidens; they were seven beautiful women, exotic and powerful, all of them. There were other sketches she was told were of her uncle's sister's son, so one of her cousins or something like that. It just showed up one day with the load of wonderful stuff.

She'd pondered the coincidence many, many times. It was clear from the book (she thought it was a diary of someone who dated or married her "cousin" Draco because he was mentioned many, many times) that the person had gone through a lot, a great adventure.

That was why she wanted to meet the person at any costs. It was odd they never said their own name. But that was when something magical had happened. A new passage had appeared out of nowhere earlier that day, and a name was signed. Ginny Weasley...Potter.

It sounded familiar, Potter. Then she remembered many mentions of a Harry, and putting the pieces together, she figured it must be Harry Potter. The hero Harry Potter. Not much was known about him now. An author, some woman with the last name Granger-Weasley, wrote some unauthorized autobiography about him and his life. Nearly everyone was forced to read it for History. On accident, Binns had assigned it twice to her year.

He'd gone to Hogwarts and defeated Voldemort and all that; everyone knew the story. But whoever the author of this diary was knew more than Capella had ever heard about Harry Potter and everything that really went on at Hogwarts.

She desperately wanted to find this person; she was sure her headmaster, Professor Snape, would help her. True, he didn't like Gryffindors, but no one was perfect. She could always ask Professor Lupin, the deputy headmaster; he liked her.

Turning off her lamp, she went to sleep, dreaming dreams about who this person could be and what she was like.

"Ready, Capella?" Aries asked her.

Capella looked at her brother and nodded. As she would ever be. She couldn't believe she found her. The Ginny Weasley...Potter. Finally she would meet the woman who...gods, she'd done a lot.

Snape had been the one who told her in the end. The most powerful witch he'd ever met was what he'd said. There was just so much; Capella couldn't even begin to describe all the woman had contributed to the world. She had to meet her; she _had_ to. So Snape gave her the coordinates to Ginny's house in the country to "return her book."

Now she was literally seconds away from Apparating to Ginny's home, and the anticipation was killing her.

"Do you want me to come, Ell?" Aries asked, grasping her hand.

She looked into his eyes and shook her head. "No. I think this is something I need to do for myself."

He only nodded and kissed her on the cheek. "I'll be waiting for you at your house, okay?"

Capella nodded and palmed the shrunken trunk of things in her pocket. She'd decided to return everything to Ginny, all of her things. After some research and clarification from Snape, Capella had discovered the answer to the mystery.

Ginny Weasley was the prophetical woman who helped save the world from Voldemort. But before she'd died at Voldemort's hands and come back, she'd been a Slytherin and not very...human. She was like a superhuman who could do just about everything and exerted a lot of energy and power. Draco Malfoy, Capella's cousin of a sort, had taken a liking to her, and they had been lovers while at Hogwarts. During the spring holiday she spent with him, both of them were killed by Voldemort, though only she was given the right to live again. But she'd left things at the Malfoys' house, namely the trunk of things and her diary.

Now Capella was going to return all of it, even the diary. She gripped the diary to her chest and concentrated on the coordinates, Apparating right onto the lawn of Ginny's home.

Opening her eyes, she found herself in the middle of a deserted moor, a tree in the distance and the sun low in the sky. "Apparation Shield," she muttered. "Fine. I'll walk then." Sighing, she set off north with the help of her wand.

It was a long walk; apparently Ginny wasn't fond of visitors. Capella wouldn't be either, if she'd gone through half the things Ginny had.

She looked over the rising sun to see a cottage in the distance. That could only be Ginny and Harry's home. Butterflies soared in her stomach as she looked at the cottage. Increasing her speed, she made for the house, anxious and slightly nervous.

As she approached, she saw the house more clearly. It was white with a white picket fence and huge rosebushes in the front. It was slightly Victorian in style, though it had a porch winding around the whole house, it seemed. A person knelt in the bushes, her back towards Capella.

It had to be Ginny; she knew it. Taking several deep breaths, she straightened her pale blonde hair and smoothed out her skirt and shirt. More nervous than she'd ever been in her life, Capella walked up to the white gates of the fence and waited.

The woman's back was to her, red hair flowing down gracefully under a broad rimmed hat. She was wearing Muggle shorts and a white shirt, tennis shoes and gardening gloves. She stopped suddenly, cocking her head, and then stood.

Capella was sure this was the most beautiful woman in the world. She'd been told a fair few times herself that she was beautiful, and not just by her parents. Modeling companies were obsessed with her eyes; deep, royal purple and mysterious, they said.

But this woman was the single most beautiful woman she had ever seen. She wasn't short, but not tall, and her build was gracefully curvy, mature and very desirable. She had glorious red hair and the most wonderful coppery-metallic-gold color eyes. She was magnificent and had a certain presence that reminded Capella she was practically a goddess in her own right.

"Yes?" the woman said, walking elegantly to Capella.

"I'm – I'm Capella – Capella Arcturus," she said quickly, stumbling over her words. This wasn't going as planned. "I – I've got something of yours...it was...I was –"

"Purple eyes," Ginny said simply. "Hmm, come in."

Capella's mouth opened and closed a couple of times, but she followed Ginny up the porch and into the cool, airy house. It was beautiful and wide inside, clear and pure. It reminded Capella of peace and home. She liked it. "I – I – as I said, I've got something of yours, Miss Weasley," Capella began.

"Please sit, Capella," Ginny said, motioning toward the table. Awkwardly, she did, putting the book on the table and pulling out the downsized trunk. Ginny handed Capella a cup of tea, then sat across from her and looked her in the eye. Capella found it hard to stare into Ginny's metallic eyes, but also hard to turn away. "My diary." Ginny gestured with her cup, nodding at it slightly. "I've looked a long time for that, Capella."

"Yes," Capella said quietly. "I didn't know..."

Ginny smiled, making her possibly even more beautiful. "I'm not accusing you of anything. I've just missed it. Tell me, how did you come across it? The last I knew it was in the house of Lucius Malfoy, collecting dust in Draco's room."

Capella launched herself into the tale of how she'd found it, how it had come to her, and how she had figured out who it belonged to and how to get there. She told her story to Ginny, who listened attentively and patiently, never interrupting.

"So you see," Capella finished, "I never knew. The whole time, I thought it was a story. I never put two and two together."

Ginny took a sip of her tea and set it down. "Well, Capella," she said in a smooth voice, "that is an interesting tale. I'm very thankful you've returned this diary to me. It is very important for more than a few reasons. But I have to know: have you been told yet?"

"Told?" Capella asked. "Told what?"

Ginny looked at Capella intently, then got up, left, and returned not three moments later with a great book with silver lined folios. She licked her fingers and placed her hand over the tome, flipping through the age-tanned pages. They flew by and stopped abruptly on one page.

"Here it is," Ginny said, sitting down across the table again from Capella. "These are my prophecies, by the way. I randomly spew them out from time to time. Aftereffects of the original prophecy – you understand? Right, here it is: And near to the end, a child shall be born, her name with the heavens and her eyes with them too. Ethereal torrents and confusion herald her eighteenth year, and The Resolution will come, true resolution. Unto the earth, she will come, The Messiah of the Universe, and she will deliver the final time.

"An interesting text, no? I'm sure it's you. Your eyes are what gave it away. 'Her name with the heavens and her eyes with them too.' It is painfully obvious. Purple is the color of ethereal magic, and Capella is a star. You are the signal of the end. Most of the world is sure it has already ended. A few others and I know this isn't true. If you are truly the Messiah, then Tom – that's Voldemort – is really dead, and we are actually free from him and his evil forever. You can't tell me you've never heard this before?"

Capella stood, stunned. That couldn't be...could it? _How many people have purple eyes, Ell? _her subconscious asked. _Ginny is telling you this. She was a prophet, still is. You have to believe her._

"I – I can't be a person in a prophecy. I mean, I'm just Capella, nothing special. Just Capella," she said. Even to her ears, she sounded pleading.

Ginny took a sip of tea and frowned. "Well, there is one way to tell. You're a Gryffindor, no? Come with me; the Rowans will be able to tell."

She stood, and Capella followed half-heartedly, looking at the living room as she left through the back door. "Where are you taking me?"

Ginny took a deep breath and sighed. "Home. You know how to Apparate, right?"

"Yes," Capella answered.

"Good. We're...oh, I'll just take you," Ginny said, holding out her ivory hand. Capella noticed there was a scar on her palm. Ginny was crucified there, she realized. Slowly, Capella took Ginny's hand, and she was gone.

The sucking feeling subsided, and Capella opened her eyes. It was cool and clean, dim under the pale trees. Wind rustled under the branches. _Rowans_, she thought. _They're beautiful. They're what my wand is made of. Thirteen inches, Rowan Wood, stardust core. I can feel it vibrating here. There is something powerful near._

Ginny took another deep breath and let go of Capella's hand, tilting her head to catch the breeze. Her hat flew off. "Can you feel it, Capella?" she asked. "I'd almost forgotten."

"Yes," Capella answered. There was an odd stirring in her soul, something old and powerful. She could feel it deep down, hiding under layers and layers of dreams and thoughts. "I can feel them."

"Good," Ginny said, looking at her now. "Follow me, Capella." Reluctantly, she did. Ginny must have noticed this for she laughed a little. "It only gets better from here!"

Numbly, Capella nodded and followed Ginny into the pale trees. The leaves rustled again as she stepped inside a curious ring. A clearing with five trees was in the center, four around one. It was the tallest of all the trees, the proudest, too. It twinkled and shimmered with some strange light.

"The Holy Circle of Rowans," Ginny stated. She laid a hand on one of the trees in the outermost ring. "This is a young grove, probably just under one hundred years. It was planted by a group of elves Alastor Moody, my mentor, helped when he was young. A lot of care and power is in this grove. It's the only one in Britain."

"Elves?" Capella asked distantly. It was the center tree which had her attention now. It was calling to her. That light...

"Elves," Ginny continued. "But what I want you to do is touch that center tree, the Tree of Ether. That will tell me what I need to know."

Capella looked from Ginny to the tree. This was the greatest gift she had ever been given. Just to look at the tree...the Tree of Ether...even if she wasn't this Messiah of the Universe, if she got to commune with that tree for just a few seconds...

"Virgin From Light," a clear, female voice said, effectively breaking the spell on Capella. "What are you doing here?"

Turning, Capella saw a lone woman approaching. Her hair was blonde, so blonde it hurt, almost like Capella's. The woman's eyes were blue, deep blue and ancient, as though she had seen and done much. But she was so young...well, young wasn't the word. Perhaps ageless was the word Capella was looking for.

"Cetia," Ginny said warmly. "It's Ginny. I'm not the Virgin any more." The two women embraced, kissing each other on the cheek before backing away.

"Ginny, then," the woman replied. "I never expected to see you again. The last time I saw Harry Green Shield was a year ago when he came back to the island for a day. He brought news about you, but I wished you were there."

"I've been taking my well deserved vacation. It's permanent, I fear," Ginny replied. "But you I've not seen in...well, it must be sixteen years. You haven't aged a day."

"I haven't aged a day since I was 175 years old, Ginny," the blonde woman said. "Who is she? The Messiah? She feels like Eovale did."

"I don't know," Ginny stated, motioning Capella over. "Her name is Capella Arcturus, an American witch. Her father's mother was a Malfoy, so she's a bit of a Brit, too."

"Nice to meet you, Capella Dragon's Daughter," the blue eyed woman said in her flowing voice. "I'm Cetia Enorian, a sea-elf of the clan Duladain. Welcome to our forest."

"I – thank you, Cetia," Capella replied.

Cetia opened her mouth then closed it, smiling. "Go ahead. Let's see if you are the Messiah."

Capella nodded and walked numbly to the trees. _The center one_, something told her. _Touch the center one._ Passing by the ring of four middle trees, Capella stood in front of the mighty Rowan. The hum came back, and she closed her eyes, feeling the age and energy of the tree. In her mind, it was a great purple cloud, old, cosmic power. Breathing in the sweet smell, she reached out a hand into the purple mists.

The earth seemed to sigh as she did so. Something broke; Capella could hear it. Then a musical voice filled her head, and she saw light.

"Messiah," it whispered, neither male nor female. "Messiah, answer me now. Is it the end?"

"The end of what?" she asked.

"The Dark One. Can you feel the darkness?"

Not clearly understanding what she was asked, Capella stayed silent. Darkness? She couldn't see it. She didn't feel anything particularly malevolent. "No," she answered, surprising herself. "I feel only order."

The music ended abruptly, and Capella wondered if she did something wrong. She opened her eyes and saw she was facing the Tree of Ether again, standing in the forest, though now it was dusk and the moon was out. Frowning, she backed away from the tree.

"So it ends," Ginny said quietly. "You were the Messiah, Capella. You've ended it."

There was a grim smile on Cetia's face when Capella turned to her. She must have misread her because she said, "Well done, Capella Dragon's Daughter. It is over now. We can return to peace. The Future is free."

Ginny and Cetia shared a secretive glance before three people emerged from the trees. One was tall and dark, with black hair and brilliant green eyes. He was well built and had a commanding air. A sword was at his hip and a smile on his face. The other two could only be elves, tall and blonde, blue eyed and lithe, though one more than the other. The wirier of the two had a bow strapped across his chest and a set expression on his face. He gazed into her eyes, and something odd entered Capella's conscious. She knew him...didn't she? She'd seen him in dreams...or were they memories? With a second look at her, he turned to Cetia and Ginny.

"Virgin From Light," the slighter one said. "Welcome. It has been long indeed since I've seen you."

Ginny smiled, and Capella watched as the stockier of the elves made his way to Cetia's side. She figured they were married or something. The dark haired man smiled at Ginny, and Ginny smiled back. _That has to be Harry Potter_, Capella thought.

"Capella," Ginny said to her. "This is Cephiet Enorian, the leader of the sea-elves and Cetia's brother. Antaries is Cetia's husband, and that is Harry Potter. You may not know the elves, but I'm sure you've heard of him."

Capella blushed a bit, brushing back her blonde hair as the blue gaze of the elves studied her. Harry merely smiled and held out his hand. "Nice to meet you, Capella." She shook his hand and smiled when he winked at her. "So how did you convince Ginny to come out of the house? I've been trying for years; she just won't budge."

"That's enough, Potter," Ginny said imperiously. "I'll have you know she is The Messiah, and you owe her a great deal of thanks for her assistance. She freed the Future, setting it away from Tom and his evil forever."

Harry's eyes widened. "Well, it seems I do owe you some thanks, Capella."

Capella blushed again and bit her lip nervously. The tall elf was looking at her oddly again, had been for some time. She felt as though her soul were being examined, not her features. "It wasn't anything, really..."

"Oh," Cetia said. "It was, though. And we must thank you properly for it. You will celebrate with us. You as well, Ginny, and Harry Green Shield."

"We would love to, wouldn't we, Capella?" Ginny urged.

Capella licked her lips. "Yes...I suppose..."

Ceita smiled. "Good. Camp is this way. Follow me, please."

Ginny gave Capella a reassuring look and beckoned her on to the woods. Falling in step behind Ginny and Harry, she looked about her. She wasn't sure how it had become night; it had been noon not too long ago. Perhaps she was in that alternate world longer than she thought.

Soon, however, she felt the piercing gaze of the elf Cephiet on the back of her head. She could have sworn she'd seen him before. Perhaps that was why he was looking at her oddly; he remembered her from somewhere.

But soon she saw a fire, a large one with a group of elves crowded about, most of them talking loudly, laughing, and a few singing. It was a happy group of about thirty elves, most with hair like hers and bright blue eyes. They were the most beautiful people she'd ever seen.

"Come," Cetia said to her. "Come sit with Ginny, Harry, and me, Capella Dragon's Daughter."

Capella nodded and followed the elfin woman to a spot around the fire. The elves grew quiet as she approached, openly staring at her. Nervously Capella licked her lips, taking a seat between Cetia and Ginny. Looking at Ginny and Harry, she had to smile at their happiness.

"My brothers and sisters," Cetia began. The elves hushed. "I come bearing good tidings. The last word has been said; The Messiah of the Universe is among us. Capella Dragon's Daughter has made the decision, and it is this: We are free! Free, my brothers, from Voldemort Morning Star and all his evil! A grand celebration will be thrown, but for now, we rejoice together."

A great cheer echoed off the trees, and Capella could feel the trees respond, leaves twinkling under the full moon. She watched the joyful elves, wishing she could be as happy. It was hard for her to appreciate what she had done; she barely knew herself. But by the way these elves were reacting, it was very important to them. Capella smiled, accepting the food offered to her and nodding when she was introduced to people. Ginny and Harry engaged her in conversation, but she pulled away.

She was by nature a private person, preferring to read and write than go to parties like her classmates. She'd never had a serious boyfriend, only one in fourth year to whom she'd barely paid attention. She'd always figured she'd sign up as an Auror or something when she got out of school; she was a gifted duelist, excelling in DADA, Transfiguration, and Charms. She'd won awards at amateur dueling meets in America and Britain both. But now she didn't know what she wanted to do. She was lost and alone.

Sighing, she looked into the fire; bright embers stared back at her. Propping her head with her hand, she looked around. She figured she wouldn't be missed if she took a bit of a walk, so she got up and headed into the forest. She really wanted to see those trees again, the ones which spoke to her. She'd never felt that way before, never experienced it. She understood them, if that made any sense, and she could tell their moods. She desperately wanted to be able to talk back to them, too.

A chilly breeze picked up, and she cursed her choice of Muggle t-shirt and skirt. She'd give anything for her robes. But as soon as she drew near the trees, away from the light of the fire, she felt unexpectedly warmed. Soft music filled her ears, and she brushed her fingertips over the pale trees, glowing in the moonlight. She closed her eyes and breathed in deep as she approached the Holy Circle of Rowans, waiting outside them.

They whispered of age and power, ancient secrets and long forgotten stories. They were young themselves but had been given knowledge beyond their time. She sighed and faced the moon. The Rowans fed off the moon's light; she could sense them absorbing the ethereal energy.

"You hear them, don't you?" a soft, masculine voice said from behind her.

Capella jumped and turned around quickly. It was an elf, the one who had been looking at her before, Cetia's brother, Cephiet. His bow leaned against a nearby tree, and his face was set in a calm, passive expression. There was some emotion Capella didn't recognize playing about his eyes which made her hum with energy. The breeze picked up, and a dark cloud crossed the moon, shading them but not bringing a complete darkness.

"Yes," Capella answered. Then averting her eyes, she added, "I'm sorry; I'll leave."

But as she walked past him, she felt light fingers on her arm, and she looked up. "You don't have to...the Circle is for everyone."

Startled by the softness in his voice, Capella drew a breath. He must have interpreted it as fear for he withdrew his hand and looked at her apologetically. Turning to the trees, he changed the subject. "I've been listening to their music since I was a small boy, when I made my first docking. They were the most beautiful things I'd ever seen. I would have stayed on land for them, but my life turned me to the sea, Ulannii."

"Do you miss them?" she asked cautiously.

"Very much so. I can't imagine a world without them. They are one reason why my people are rejoicing. Voldemort Morning Star wanted to chop them all down; they posed too much of a threat to him. You've freed us eternally from his dominion over us and the forests. Thank you."

Capella found herself blushing. "I...you're welcome. I don't know how much I did, but I'm happy to help."

He looked at her in silence, blue eyes burning holes in her violet, but never did Capella feel uncomfortable. The moon broke free of the clouds, and Capella inhaled at the sight of Cephiet's skin glowing under the pale light. He looked like a god or a king, some powerful being from beyond.

"Your eyes," he said softly. "They remind me of a person I once met in my dreams. Her name was Eovale Sindela, a sea-elf in legend. Stories tell of her being very powerful, but lonely. One day, her sadness overtook her, and Ulannii retrieved her from land, carrying her away on his currents to the sea where she would be forever happy. But in the sea, she could never see the moon, her mother, and in missing it, her soul became lost, half living in the ocean and half in the moon. Her love for both aspects of her nature caused the tides – the moon pulled her soul in the sea to it; then the sea pulled back."

"How sad," Capella said.

"Your eyes, they are like hers. Deep and violet like no worldly color. Your hair, too, wavy as the sea and pale as the moon. And your skin," he said softly, his hand raising to her face and tracing her jaw tenderly. His eyes shone in the soft light, sparkling with emotion. "She had porcelain skin."

"What happened to her?" Capella asked. Her stomach was filling with butterflies, and she was so nervous she could barely stand. She had barely met him, and yet she felt as though she'd known him for centuries. His long fingers skimmed lightly over her lips and then brushed away a stray hair from her forehead. She licked her lips nervously and stared blindly into his eyes.

"No one knows. Some say her spirit still travels from the sea to the moon, forever lost in her grief. Some say she disappeared, leaving the moon and sea to fight over her memory. I think she's standing here in front of me. Gods, but you look like her!" he said with a chuckle and a smile. As he exhaled, Capella noticed the hitch in his breath, and she bit her bottom lip. "I've waited a long time for you, Capella Dragon's Daughter."

Capella didn't know what to say. A complete stranger had practically told her he was in love with her, and she...she was all right with it. It _felt _right, if that made any sense at all. She felt like she'd known him her whole life. His eyes bored into hers, and he moved closer, eyes searching hers self-consciously.

She tilted her head, felt a light, velvety brush on her lips and shivered. Just that one contact made lightning shoot from her lips to her toes and back. Her eyes flickered open as Cephiet pulled back. She couldn't read his eyes, but she could tell he was nervous. Closing her eyes, she felt his lips meet hers again, a little more solidly than the first time. Electric shots flowed through her as lithe fingers found the base of her back and his palm flattened on her skin.

The warm, silky brush of his tongue played on her lips, and she was brought into a deeper, more passionate kiss. Cephiet's warm body moved against hers, and her knees liquefied. His tongue danced lightly with hers, and she felt herself being dipped slightly. Slowly, she wound her hands around his shoulders, gripping him tightly as his other hand came to rest on her hip.

That was when he pulled back. Capella's eyes fluttered open in slight protest to see his face slightly flushed and almost embarrassed. For some reason, she wasn't embarrassed in the least. In fact, she felt right. Something had clicked, and she wasn't sure what. She leaned her head on Cephiet's chest, liking how her head fit on his shoulder.

Cephiet's body tensed. _He'd never done this before_, she realized. _He probably didn't even know what was going on until it happened._ She sighed, not wanting the moment to end.

* * *

"I was wondering when this was going to happen," Cetia said to Ginny as they watched the two people through the trees.

Ginny nodded. "She will be good for him, I think."

"Well, she better," Cetia scoffed. "It's been in his future to marry a human. Our own oracle wrote it when he was young. At first, he was horrified, wanting to break the hold future had over him. But he began having dreams of purple-eyed women and knew she was what he was looking for. He never had any other lovers, and he never despaired. I have to say he's been very patient."

Looking again at the two people embracing, Ginny smiled. It was about time someone she knew had a life go right. It filled her with hope for the younger generation. Who knew what the future told? She sure didn't.

Ginny felt Harry's arms circle her waist. Smiling, Cetia left her with him.

"Spying, Ginny?" he asked. "How terribly Slytherin of you."

Ginny smiled and kissed Harry on the cheek. "Do you want to get married?"

He looked at her oddly.

"I think I deserve a little happiness. I mean, it is truly over now. There's nothing more I can worry about, just you and me."

Harry smiled and said, "I thought you'd never ask."


End file.
